


Ten Thousand Small Rebellions

by lesbianerd



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Rare Pairings, Slow Burn, i hope you enjoy, the one that started me on my lesbian journey, this was my original lesbian ship guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-04-16 09:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14161632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianerd/pseuds/lesbianerd
Summary: Katniss never wanted to be the Mockingjay, never wanted to be the face of the rebellion, all she wanted was to keep Primrose safe. All Madge wants  is freedom. Freedom from the games and from the Capitol. In a world where neither girl gets picked, this story takes place in district twelve. Following the characters and all their small rebellions as events unfold on screen. But complacency doesn't last, especially under conditions such as these. How long will it take for a full revolution to take hold? And will our characters survive? Canon Divergent.





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One, Madge POV, Tuesday, June 24th**

Light filters through my bedroom window, the square below, usually bustling, is silent. The shops closed. Soon it will be full of people, though most likely, still quiet as the grave.

Today is the day of the reaping, and always one of my mother's worst days. On this day, my father and I always draw the curtains so that she can't see the proceedings in the square. It doesn't make much of a difference, she won't be moving from her bed anyway.

We try not to talk about it much, but I know the story of my aunt, how she got reaped for the second quarter quell, how she almost made it home. When I was a child, playing hide and seek with my mother on one of her good days, I had found a box of aunt Maysilee's things underneath my mother's bed. A pocketknife with an engraved 'M' on it. A book of pressed flowers. A photograph of two identical blonde babies sitting on a blanket. And a circular, gold, pin.

When my mother had found me, the box's contents splayed out on the floor, our game completely forgotten, her previously cheery mood immediately turned somber.

"Oh." She stood frozen in the doorway. "You look so much like her."

It was then that she told me the basics: She'd had a twin sister. She had been reaped. But more inquiries just led to my mother closing herself off. She had let me have the pin, since I'd admired it so, and insisted on no more questions.

Her mental state only got worse once I was eligible for the reaping. With each passing year, with each new slip reading "Madge Undersee" that was added to the bowl, my mother withdrew further. Some days it seemed like she didn't even recognize me. On others she'd grab my arm and cling to me, hard enough to leave bruises, begging me not to leave. Ever since I had learned about my aunt, I had felt as if my family was not complete, but looking at my mother, I couldn't help but feel as though the Capitol had stolen two family members from me.

Of course, I don't have it as bad as a lot of people. Compared to most of the kids in the seam, my five slips didn't even register. This was made especially apparent when Katniss and Gale had shown up to sell their wild strawberries.  _"What can you have, five slips? I had six when I was just twelve years old."_  Gale had said. And he was right. The Capitol wouldn't stop at killing teenagers, no, they would make the poor ones choose: starve to death, or willingly enter yourself into a death match.

It wasn't fair. None of it was.

Thinking of Katniss, I try to count up the slips she will have today. Five age slips, same as me, plus tesserae slips for her, Prim, and their mother for five years. That makes twenty.

Katniss Everdeen would have twenty slips in that bowl today.

I adjust the pin on my blouse. Maysilee's games were so long ago that it was unlikely anyone would recognize it, but I still wants to wear it. If only to hold the Capitol accountable for the family they'd destroyed.

**Katniss's POV**

Effie Trinket's manicured nails fumble through the girl's bowl, finally snagging a slip, she smooths it out, ready to call the name of the next child to be sentenced to death. I squeeze my eyes shut. Don't let it be me. Don't let it be me.

"Keena Murkier!"

I breath a sigh of relief, immediately followed by a sense of shame. My family is not the one being ripped apart, but I know Keena. She's Ripper's younger cousin, sometimes selling alcohol with her at the hob, and she has a two year old son. At eighteen, this should have been her last reaping.

As Keena makes her way to the stage, a wail rings out from the crowd.

"Mama. Mama!"

On the outskirts of the crowd, Ripper is struggling to hold Keena's son, who's pushing and crying to get to his mother. My heart breaks a little. I wonder who will take care of him now.

Effie Trinket smiles brightly.

"Well, can we get a big round of applause for our female tribute?"

Nobody claps. It's the strongest form of resistance we can muster in this moment. We will not treat this like the tournament for fame and glory the Capitol makes it out to be. All of this is wrong.

Almost without thinking about it, I press my fingers to my lips and hold them out in a three-fingered salute to Keena. Like a wave of movement radiating out from the center, the others do the same. A final farewell to Keena Murkier.

She looks as if she's about to cry, but holds back her tears.

"Well!" Effie Trinket says, "On to the boys then!"

She taps her way over to the boy's bowl in her ridiculous glitzy heels that probably cost more than three months worth of food on their own, and fished out a slip. I look over to where Gale is standing at the front, praying it won't be him.

"Peeta Mellark!"

Oh no.

My gut twists as the blonde boy walks up to the stage, because I know him, though I've never spoken to him. He's the one that threw the bread to me five years ago. He's the one that saved my family's lives. I stood frozen in the realization that I may never get to thank him for that.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Katniss POV

After regrouping with my mother and Prim, after sending them home, telling them I'll be there later, I wait outside Peeta's visitation room. I'm sure he'd rather see his friends and family than me, but I wouldn't feel right about letting him go without thanking him. This was my last chance.

After a teary-eyed Delly Cartwright exits the room, the peacekeepers posted outside the door wave me in.

Peeta is sitting on a plush couch, wiping his eyes. When he sees me his mouth hangs open in surprise.

"Katniss?"

"Hey," My voice comes out gruff. "I… I know you probably have friends you'd rather visit with, so I'll make this quick. I just couldn't let you go without thanking you for the bread."

He looks confused. "The what? From this morning? Was it that good?"

"What? No, from five years ago. That night."

His eyebrows furrow.

"That? That was so long ago. And it was the least I could do. Actually no, the least I could've done would be actually giving it to you instead of throwing it like a jerk. But… you're welcome."

I huff. Frustrated that he doesn't seem to understand the significance of it. Frustrated that this is how this moment is playing out.

"You don't even know. How much that meant."

"Oh," he smiles softly, "well I would do it again in a second."

I stand in awkward silence for a minute.

"Maybe you can win. You're strong enough. You could fight."

He shook his head.

"We both know I'm not that kind of person."

"So you've already given up?"

"No." He stands up. "I haven't. But I also won't let the Capitol change me into something I'm not."

The peacekeeper opens the door, indicating that my time is up. Not knowing what else to say, I tell him good luck before turning to leave.

"Katniss, I-"

I look back, to hear what he has to say, but his mouth is pressed in a thin line and he seems to be reconsidering his words. The peacekeeper ushers me out and a few of Peeta's merchant friends take my place in the room.

I now stand in a nearly-empty square. The train that will take Keena and Peeta to their deaths is pulled into the station. I don't know how to feel. Restless, I jog back to the Seam. Eager to spend the dinner at home with my family.

Madge POV

My father and I walk back to our house. As he did every year, he had facilitated the reaping. I knew he didn't have a choice, but it was hard not to resent him for it.

We have a dinner of steak and potatoes. A celebration of another year survived. My mother is still in bed, so I prepare a plate of mashed potatoes for her. I place her daily medication on the side, and pour her a glass of lemonade before taking it up to her.

She smiles blearily when I enter the room.

"Maysilee darling, you made it home!"

"It's just me mama," I say, placing the tray of food in front of her. "make sure to take all your pills, and try to eat all the potatoes too. Oh, and let me know if you want any dessert."

"Thank you sweetheart."

I give her a hug before leaving, then grab the bag of strawberries Katniss had sold us, and my astronomy book, and take a seat on our outside balcony to map out the constellations appearing in the darkening sky. I can just make out Orion's belt, and then the curve of his bow, pulled back and aiming to strike Taurus the bull.

I wish I could change this, wish I could stop praying that Effie Trinket's manicure lands on anyone's name but Katniss's, Prim's, or mine, year after year. I wish I could stop wishing for the fate of the games to land on someone I'm not as close to, because no one deserves this. But I'm here, my mother is here, my father is here, under the control of the capitol. And all I can do is look towards the worlds beyond this one, the stories in the sky, and wish to be anywhere but District Twelve.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed, I'm working hard to keep my characterization accurate. Please review and I'll see you soon! (This is the first fic where I've actually written several chapters ahead of time, so there's definitely more to come!)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Katniss POV

I wake up to the sounds of Prim cooking. She's built up a fire in our little woodstove, and is mixing water, cornmeal, and goat's milk in a pot on the stove. I get out bed and immediately step on Buttercup's tail, who hisses and bites into my ankle.

"Stupid Cat!"

"Katniss!" Prim yelps, scooping the mangy creature into her arms. "Don't hurt him!"

"You should tell him that!" I reply, showing her my ankle.

She frowns, picking up a clean rag and instructing me to hold it to the bite while she gets some disinfecting herbs. I watch as she pulls a crate out from under our mother's bed, where she's still sleeping, and sorts through the many jars and tins within. She returns with some salve and gauze, gently takes the rag from me, dips it in water, and cleans the blood from the bite.

She holds up the tin she'd grabbed. "This is goldenseal salve, it's an antiseptic."

She spreads the salve over the bite, then wraps the gauze around it.

"Keep it clean and covered and it should be fine."

"Thanks Duckling."

Over her shoulder I can see the mixture in the pot bubbling dangerously close to the top.

"Woah!" I yelp, grabbing the pot and lifting it from the stove as the first dribbles spill over and sizzle against the stove surface.

"Oh no!" Prim grabs the spoon and stirs vigorously as I hold the pot away from the heat, calming down the bubbling mixture, which is quickly thickening into cornmeal mush. She bites her lip and her eyes look watery.

"It's okay Prim, just a little spill."

She nods and begins spooning the mush into three bowls, one for each of us. I know she's busying herself to keep from getting upset. I do the same whenever I'm roasting meat and drop some into the coals, or spill some stew. When you don't have enough to eat, every bit of wasted food feels like a blow.

I grab the last of the strawberries Gale and I gathered yesterday and slice them up to make them go even further, then sprinkle them over top of the mush while Prim rouses our mother. I'm already planning what we'll eat for the next week as we sit down to breakfast. I'll meet Gale out in the woods this morning before we head to school, but in a few days he'll start working in the mines, only able to hunt on Sundays. I shudder, thinking of him trapped in that dark tunnel, underneath ten tons of rock, without a hint of sunlight. He feels the same way about the mines as I do, of course. We both lost our fathers in there. But once you're of age it's required that you work there. For men, at least. Women can get away with looking for alternate employment a little more easily. If you can find anything that you can actually live off of, that is.

And of course, for the next month there will be mandatory viewings of the hunger games, just another cruel way for the Capitol to remind us of our helplessness. That will take up a lot of time. Time I could be spending hunting. But if I forage and spend the time in front of the TV with my mother and sister drying fruit, pickling vegetables, and grinding the tesserae grain, it could be worthwhile.

I usually try to tune the violence on the screen out, but knowing who the tributes are, I'm not sure if that will be possible this year.

I notice the jug of goat's milk Prim has set by the door.

"You going to the Hob today, Prim?" I ask, gesturing towards it.

"Oh, no. That's for Runi, Keena's boy. I wanted to make sure he's got something to eat."

I think about giving her a lecture about putting herself first, not giving food away when she needs it as much as anyone, but the milk is hers to give, and Prim being sweet, generous Prim, wouldn't listen anyway. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't thinking of ways to get food to the little boy as well, though Prim would always be my priority.

Instead I just ruffle her hair.

"We can drop it off on the way to school later."

Madge's POV

Halfway through first period Katniss walks into class, wearing her hunting jacket. She takes a seat next to me in the back of the class and leans close to me. I notice the pine needles tangled in her braid.

"What did I miss?"

"Dark days, hunger games, the usual." I reply. We get the same lesson every year.

The teacher is from district one, and that's probably why they're teaching Panem history. After all, the rest of our classes are about mining coal, and what would a luxury-craft type know about that?

There's any empty seat near the front row, where Peeta Mellark used to sit. No one in the class would talk about it, but no one wanted to take his seat either. It stayed empty, a reminder to the world that someone who should be there today was missing. Throughout the school, there were more seats like this one. There would be one for Keena in the senior class. Once, somewhere, there was one for Maysilee.

The rest of the day passes without much event. We're assigned to write a paper on the formation of coal, and given a list of pre-approved books to use as references. As per usual, Katniss and I agree to work on it together.

When the day is done, instead of going straight home, I turn towards the meadow on a whim. There are wild strawberries growing alongside the fence. I pick a handful and enjoy their sweet, fresh taste, gazing up at the trees beyond the fence, longing, for the world beyond district twelve. Someday I'll get up the guts to go out there, to ask Katniss to go with me, but that won't be today.

A mockingjay takes off from the top of a tall oak, and as it flies across the sky, I fixate on the split second when its silhouette crosses the setting sun. Its wings splayed out against that golden backdrop, mimicking the image on my pin. The mockingjay, I realize, is not just a songbird, it's an oversight. Proof that the Capitol cannot control everything. Born from their attempt to destroy a weapon that failed them.

I smile, extending my arms as if, I too, could fly away from this place.

Prim's Cornmeal Mush Recipe

Ingredients:

1 part cornmeal

2 parts milk, goat's or otherwise

3 parts water

Dash of salt

Sugar or syrup to taste

Toppings (Optional)

Directions:

Mix all ingredients except for the toppings in a pot on the stove. Bring the mixture to a boil, stirring constantly, and shortly after it boils it should thicken up into a pudding consistency. Serve immediately.

The great thing about cornmeal is that it expands so much you really don't need a lot of it to make a good meal. ¼ cup of cornmeal will yield a big bowl of food for one person. This recipe can also be made with all water, or all milk, just so long as you keep the 1 part cornmeal/ 5 parts liquid ratio. More milk will just yield a creamier mush.

The downside to this recipe is that it's bland, in both texture and flavor. This can be vastly improved if you happen to have cinnamon, vanilla, or other flavorings to add to it. It's also improved by toppings, fresh or dried fruit, canned peaches, nuts, whatever you happen to have on hand that will add variety to the texture. And if you really want to put it over the top, mash up a banana and stir it into the mush while it's cooking.

Happy recipe making!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Madge POV

I barely make it back in time for the televised tribute parade.

There's a public showing in the square, if you don't attend, you're expected to be watching in your house. Peacekeepers patrol to make sure everyone's tuned in.

We usually turn on the tv in our living room, draw the lace curtains, and have our housekeeper watch with us. That way, any outside observer would see three silhouettes, two female, one male, and assume that the whole family was present, allowing my mother to sleep through it in the upstairs room.

Katniss POV

I elect to spend the afternoon at Gale's house. This morning we had gathered cattail roots and stalks, digging them up out of the mud until both of us were covered in it. The day after reaping day, and I already need another bath.

I had also shot an opossum, and Gale had snared two rabbits, and now we're gutting and skinning them at his kitchen table, preparing a roast for tonight's dinner. Gale's little siblings are sitting in front of the television, peeling the long, green leaves away from the cattail stalk, revealing the tender, starchy inner stalk, which Hazelle is preparing a pickling solution for.

I've always admired Hazelle, for her resilience, her refusal to give up. Where my mother had just slipped away after my father died, Hazelle had done her best to provide for her children. She'd started a business washing clothes, and though it wasn't enough to keep them all in bread and butter without the tesserae, or Gale, at least she'd never stopped trying.

Sometimes I feel more at home in Gale's house than my own. Not just because of Hazelle. My mother is merchant class, an apothecary, and Prim takes after her. Taking patients, treating illnesses. And though I can recognize medicinal herbs well enough, applying them to injured people is something I don't think I'll ever be able to stomach. When people come to my mother for their afflictions, children with infections, miners with black lung, my first instinct is to run for the woods. I am a hunter, forager, barterer. Like my father. Like Gale.

The television blares to life in the corner, the chorus of the Capitol anthem filling the room. I wipe my hands on a rag and settle down between Vick and Rory, picking up the long cattail leaves they had stripped away, and demonstrate to them how to weave them into a mat. They get to work eagerly. Posy is happily ripping the fluff off of one of the cattails heads that has already gone to seed, giggling as she blows the fluff up into the air, and it floats back down to settle around her.

The chariots are already rolling by on screen. District one in glittering feathers and rhinestones, district two in gladiator armor, carefully molded so as best to show off their figures, district three in outfits that appeared to just be a collection of wires…

More chariots pass by in a blur. I begin working on processing the cattail roots. First washing the mud from them, then crushing them, then plunging them into a bowl of cold water, working them vigorously with my fingers to separate the precious starch found within from the long, stringy fibers. As I finish up, waiting for all the starch to settle at the bottom of the bowl, so I can pour the excess water off, I hear a sudden roar of cheers from the Capitol crowd on recording and look up, startled. On screen, the chariot carrying the tributes from eleven rolls by. A tall boy with dark skin who must be one of the older tributes, and a very slight, equally dark girl who looked like she was barely pushing eleven. They were both wearing simple but elegant farm clothes, and a wreath of silver laurels on their heads. And beyond that…

Beyond that you could already see Peeta and Keena. They were glowing that brightly. Flames streamed from their black cloaks and headdresses. Flames that looked terrifyingly real, but didn't seem to be harming them. The capitol crowd went wild as their chariot raced by and took its place among the others. District Twelve had stolen the show.

"Wow." Gale said, nodding in grudging approval. "We actually made an entrance this year."

"District twelve is on fire tonight!" Canned laughter emanates from the tv set.

"I want to wear something like that!" Says Posy, jumping up and bouncing excitedly in front of us.

Gale scoops her up. "No you don't kiddo. That stuff's only for tributes."

"But it's sooo pretty!"

"Posy-"

Gale sighs. I can tell that he doesn't know how to explain this to her. How the flashy outfits might as well their funeral garb. Instead I step in.

"You wouldn't like it Posy, every time you'd walk down the street people would say 'that girl's on fire!' and dump water on you to try to put you out."

Posy giggled. "Eeeeww!"

Gale, Hazelle, and I finish up the food. By the end of the night, we have four jars of pickled cattail stalks, a container of now-dried cattail flour, two roasted rabbits and one possum, and a stack of cattail mats courtesy of Vick and Rory. We agree on how to split it up: I take one rabbit, two jars of cattail pickles, the flour, and two mats, and the Hawthornes get the rest.

It isn't our biggest haul, but it's better than nothing. I set out for home, where we'll have roast rabbit for a late dinner.

Hazelle's cattail stalk pickles:

Ingredients:

30-40 Cattail shoots (Warning, do not mistake yellow flag iris for cattails, be confident in your identification)

Pickling spices of your choice

2 cups water

2 cups white viegar

2 teaspoons pickling salt

Directions: Remove the outer leaves from the cattail stalks so that only the starchy white inner part remains. Cut the stalks down to size so that they will fit into your jars, then ad your pickling spices. Mix your water, vinegar, and salt in saucepan on the stove and cook, stirring, until the salt is completely dissolved. Spoon the brine into your jars until it covers all the cattails, wipe any debris from the rim of the jar, and secure the lids. Place jars in a boiling water bath that reaches at least one inch above the tops of the jars. Leave for fifteen minutes, then remove the jars and set them out to cool. You'll hear a popping sound as the seal on jar is formed. Leave for a few weeks and then the pickles are ready to eat!

Happy recipe making!


	5. Chapter 5

Katniss POV: Chapter Five

I wake up the next morning with growling in my stomach.

I roll over, groaning, and accidently squish prim up against the wall. I hear a small 'oof' come from under the covers.

"Sorry Prim."

Getting up, I peruse the cabinets, already knowing there isn't much there. It's the end of the month, meaning that our tesserae is almost gone. And while we did prepare pickles and flour yesterday, if we don't stock those things up for winter it'll be all over. Winter is always the hardest.

My mother is kneeling beside her bed, rummaging through her trunk of herbs. She keeps all of her jars carefully labelled, tinctures, salves, tea blends. She glances up when she feels my eyes on her.

"Good morning Katniss, do you think you could gather a little wild garlic when you go out today? There's a child with worms that I need to treat."

I bristle a little bit at the request. Why can't you do it? You know what it looks like.

But I bite it back.

"Sure ma."

She goes back to pulling out different jars.

"I'll make mush out of the tesserae grain. You and Prim can have my share. I'm not very hungry." She says.

I know it's a lie, she must be as hungry as any of us. but I try to be grateful. It's still hard to forget how she disappeared after our father died, when we needed her most, when we were starving. But at least she's trying.

"Thank you."

I eat my breakfast quickly and leave a bowl out for Prim, who's still sleeping. Then I quickly head for the meadow, and Gale and my meeting spot under the ledge. It takes a while for Gale to show up. I pass the time by gathering sheep sorrel, and hunting for wild garlic.

When he finally does show up, his face looks grim. I nod to him, figuring if he wants to talk about what's going on, he will. It doesn't take long.

"Rory keeps talking about taking out tesserae." He says, while we check his snare line.

Oh.

"Do you think you can talk him out of it?"

Gale shakes his head. "I've tried, told him my wages from mining would be enough. But he isn't buying it. And I can't say I'm surprised. Even when our dad was around, I still had to take out tesserae."

Gale pulls a rabbit from a snare and stuffs it angrily in his bag.

"The Capitol makes it so the only thing we Seam people can do is mine for them, then pay us so little that our kids have to sign up to die for their entertainment just to avoid starving to death!"

A few birds flutter away from the tree above us, startled by Gale's steadily raising voice.

"And the mines are so deep and old it's a goddamn miracle more people haven't died in them than already have!"

Another snare, another rabbit.

"And those who don't get killed in a collapse or explosion just die of black lung. Or starvation when they can't work because of black lung!"

All of it is true, I know it, but when Gale gets like this, there's no hope for hunting. I'd rather he rant in the woods than the district though, so I steer him towards the lake, in hopes we can at least get some fish.

"And then the Capitol has the nerve to call the tesserae 'government assistance' like yes, thank you for assisting the class divide that ensures that, nineteen out of twenty times, it's a Seam kid going into the games to get killed!"

"I know." I say softly.

"There's only one way to go, here. You get killed by the Capitol. End of story."

I reel in a trout.

"I know, Gale. But we need to get more food. Can we focus on that?"

"Why?" Gale stands up. "So we can live to die another day, in district twelve?"

"What else do you propose we do?" I ask, getting irritated.

"Run away!"

"You know I can't do that."

"You could, you know I can't let Rory take out tesserae, and I know you'd feel the same about Prim."

"Well, as shitty as it is here, Prim has a better chance here than in the woods! She's got a life! Pets, friends, school, and an apothecary! In the woods there are predators, poisonous snakes, bad weather and barely anywhere you can take shelter from it. She can't defend herself, and the Capitol would come after us anyway. You say those runaway capitol kids that day in the woods."

Gale settles into a brooding silence.

"Okay, fair point. But I can't keep living like this. We can't keep living like this."

"I don't see any other option."

We continue to fish. I mentally go over everything we need, sugar, pickling salt, vinegar, eggs, a coat for prim. I'm going to need to do some trading for all of that. I don't know how I'll have time.

When the sun is halfway to its position in the center of the sky, Gale and I get up to go back to the district as we always have. We have six fish between us, and we split them evenly before going our separate ways. He also gives me one of the rabbits he snared.

"For putting up with me."

When I get home I drop the wild garlic on the table and ask my mom to tell the school I'm home sick if they ask about me. She nods. I do this often enough. I leave two fish and the sheep sorrel, and take the rest with me to the hob.

The hob is bustling as usual. Greasy Sae waves hello.

"Can I take either of those off your hands?" She asks, nodding at the fish and rabbit I'm carrying.

"Do you have any salt or vinegar?" I ask.

"Salt? Of course, can do. I'll give you half a jar for that rabbit."

"It's a fat rabbit. I'd say it's worth at least three-quarters."

"You drive a hard bargain. Two thirds."

I agree to this deal, slipping the jar of salt into my bag.

"I think Ripper has some vinegar dearie." Greasy Sae says.

I nod back to her. "Thanks."

Ripper's table is stocked with all manner of alcohol. Her face looks worn. I can see Runi's feet peeking out from under the table. Keena's two year old son is playing absently with yarn doll on the floor.

"Hey Ripper, I heard you might have some vinegar."

"Depends on what you're offering for it."

I hold up the fish and she shakes her head.

"Honestly, girl, all I really need is more cloth diapers for this one." She gestures at the boy under the table. "If you can get me that it's all yours."

I glance around the hob. There's usually families in here offering to trade their baby's things after they've grown out of them. Or died. The Seam is hard on children.

I spot a woman carrying a four year old on her back, and a stack of clothes. I make my way over to her. After successfully trading the fish for a stack of clean cloth diapers, and the diapers for the vinegar, I drop my winnings off at home and head back to the woods.

Today I was supposed to be working with Madge on that coal project. I feel bad for leaving all the work to her, but we need to eat. Maybe I can stop by her house later to see if I can help. I head towards the lake, moving carefully so as not to startle any game. As much as I trust Gale, I've never taken him to the lake. It is a place for my father and myself. And if he saw the little cabin there he might be tempted to stay.

I spot movement in the tree above me and fire an arrow, bringing down a squirrel.

Madge POV:

Katniss doesn't come to school that day. I wonder if something is wrong. Our project isn't due till Monday, so it isn't the end of the world, but I wished I could've worked with her instead of poring over the well-used books in our school library alone. We don't usually talk much, but I enjoy her company. I wonder if she feels the same.

The day goes by without much event, except for when I'm walking home, and an exposed nail on the school fence snags the sleeve of my shirt, tearing it. I'm not too bothered, it's an old shirt anyway. But when I get home, mother is actually there to greet me. She's sitting at our kitchen table, reading a book, and smiles brightly when I walk in.

"Hello darling, how was school?"

I'm a little startled by her cheeriness. "It was fine, what are you reading?"

"Charlotte's Web, it's a very old book. I read it when I was a girl."

She notices my torn sleeve and a crease appears between her eyebrows.

"Your shirt, what happened?"

"Oh, I just tore it, I can stitch it back up later."

She examines the fabric.

"The elbows are all worn out too, we should get you a new one."

"It's okay, ma, I don't want to be any trouble."

But she's already throwing on her coat and gesturing for me to come outside with her. I follow. It's been a long time since I've been out with my mom.

We walk together across the square to the tailor's. As we pass by the sweets shop, my mother points it out, telling me about how she used to work there, making candies, before she married my dad.

There are only a few people in the tailor's shop. My mother takes me up to the counter and requests a new blouse for me.

"You want a ready made one or one made special for you?" He asks.

"Ready made, please." I quickly say.

He goes to the back to pull out some shirts and I busy myself by looking at bolts of patterned fabric.

"Oh, isn't that beautiful?" My mom asks, pointing out a bolt of fabric with a pattern of marigolds on it. "I would love to see a skirt made out of that."

As my mother and I chat idly about clothes, I can hear some of the other customers' conversation.

"The parade last night, what an entrance!"

"That boy though, he's the first one of ours taken in eight years. Thought we were safe from this."

"The odds are usually more in our favor, anyway."

"Yes, so sad about that sweet baker's boy, that should never happen here in the merchant's class."

I bristle, and whirl around to face them. "As opposed to in the Seam!?"

The three merchant class people stand silent for a moment, looking startled at my outburst. I recognize them as the cobbler and his wife, and the woman who runs the watch shop, Ora.

Cautiously, the cobbler speaks up. "Well… You know those folks don't live very long anyway, most of those kids going in the games wouldn't even have made it here. And, I mean, at the end of the day, their poverty is our insurance policy."

"How… dare you?" My mother says. I glance over at her. Her face is ashen and she is glaring at the merchants with a look of disgust usually reserved for the nasty things that sometimes get stuck on her shoes.

"How dare you wish this on anybody? Hundreds of children are dead! How dare you try to justify that?"

"I didn't mean any offense ma'am, just trying to be realistic." He gestures for the other two women to follow him as he leaves the shop. They shoot us nasty looks as they go.

My mother stands frozen, staring at the spot where they left. Tears are welling up in her eyes, and I can tell that this won't be a good day after all.

The tailor comes in from the back, carrying a stack of shirts.

"These ones all look like they should fit you, but let me know if I need to make any adjustments."

"Great," I say, eager to get my mom out of this shop. I slap some coins on the counter and grab the top shirt off of the stack, a pink and white one sporting a small checkerboard pattern. "I'll take this one."

The tailor looks surprised. "You don't want to try it on first?"

"Nope!" I turn to leave, then spot the marigold fabric my mother had admired and thought twice. I grab it.

"And I'll take two yards of this please."

The tailor measures out the fabric and bags it up for me.

"You have a nice day now, miss."

"Thanks, you too." I grab my mom's hand and lead her out to the square.

By the time we get home, my mom is already clutching her head. One of her frequent painful headaches is coming on. I lead her up to her bedroom, then brew some tea for her, stirring sleep syrup into it. After making sure that she'd fallen asleep, I slump against the wall.

What the hell? What kind of messed up people…?

If the divides between merchant and seam weren't clear enough already, they are now. I knew, of course I knew. I knew that it was usually Seam kids going in the games, I knew that the merchant kids in school tended to keep to themselves rather than play with the other kids, I knew it was mostly people from the Seam working in the mines, doing dangerous labor while we had the opportunity to get jobs with any of the businesses in the square. I knew all of it. But the fact that there are merchants actively pushing to maintain that divide, to push them down just so we can keep our heads above water…

I hadn't realized.

And then I realize it's because I never had to. My status as a merchant woman benefits me without any work or knowledge on my part. I was born with privilege. Even in district twelve.

I wonder if it's the Capitol's intent to keep us divided. It's clever. Employ the tesserae so that the merchant class can feel a false sense of security from the games in the fact that their kids are far less likely to get reaped, make that the only source of food assistance so that the Seam people also remain dependent on the games.

And then the only interaction between the districts is in competition with each other, kids murdering kids, and broadcast for everyone to see. It's sick, but it's effective. You can't launch a rebellion without unity.

I unpack the bag from the tailor's shop, take off my torn shirt, and pull on the new one. It's a little big, but I like it that way. Then I take the marigold fabric, and some scissors from the kitchen drawer, and lay it out on the floor. I'm not the most accomplished seamstress, but I can make a circle skirt fairly easily. Maybe if I can finish it by the time my mother wakes up, it might lift her mood.

I set to work, cutting out large pieces for the body of the skirt, the waistband, and begin stitching them together.

Katniss POV:

After spending the full day in the woods, I have plenty to show for it. Several squirrels, a wild turkey, a basket of Katniss tubers, a bag full of various greens, five fish, and a bucket of wild strawberries. I had run across a deer and been very tempted to bring it home as well, but without Gale I'd have no hope of carrying it. This is plenty, anyway.

By the time I make it back to the fence carrying my haul, I am ravenously hungry. Hunting and gathering tends to have that effect. You burn a lot of energy doing it, and you are always questioning, in the back of your mind, whether the food you bring back will be enough to make up for it. I nibble on greens and strawberries to sate myself as I make my way back to the hob.

A handful of trades later and my load is significantly lighter, and I have a basket of eggs, the coat Prim needs, and bowl of Greasy Sae's soup, which I down quickly.

I stop back at home, Prim is busy in the corner of our one-room house dedicated to a kitchen, making goat cheese. She waves at me as I come in, and I hide the coat behind my back. I'm planning on saving it for a birthday present, as she won't be needing it while it's summer, and I need to patch up the elbows before giving it to her.

"Wow, Katniss, that's quite a haul!"

I set the eggs, turkey, and Katniss tubers on the counter. Either Prim or our mom has already cleaned the fish and has it smoking over the fire. The greens are in the salad bowl. We'll have food for tonight and tomorrow, at the very least.

I kiss Prim on her forehead. "And that looks like some wonderful cheese."

I tuck the coat into my bag. "I'm going to go out and do some more trading. See what I can get for these squirrels."

"Okay, and what about the strawberries? Those for Madge?" She smiles devilishly.

"… Yes?"

"Hmm."

"What?"

"I didn't say nothing." She says in a sing-song voice. "Go. Have fun."

I leave the house, still wondering what the heck Prim was on about.

I stop by the Baker's house, but immediately backtrack when I see that his nasty wife is running the shop. Then I head to Madge's. We had agreed to work on our mining project today, and I didn't want her grade to suffer on account of my absence. When I knock on the door she answers, wearing a pretty pink and white checked shirt and looking a little frazzled.

"Katniss? Hi! I thought you were sick today."

I just shake my head and hold out the strawberries to her. "I thought you might want to work together, since I wasn't there to help today."

"Oh, well, I'm a little busy with something at the moment, but you can come in!"

She grabs my hand and pulls me into her house. It's the largest house I've ever been in. Two stories, separate living, kitchen and dining rooms, I bet Madge even has a bedroom to herself. She leads me to the kitchen. I notice a half-finished skirt patterned with marigolds spread out on the floor.

"Thanks for the strawberries, how do you feel about strawberries and cream?"

"Sounds good."

She goes to her refrigerator, an actual refrigerator, and pulls out some cream and sugar and begins whisking them together in a bowl. Taking her cue, I begin pulling the leafy tops off the strawberries. She takes two bowls out of her cabinet, scoops the strawberries into them, and then spoons the sweetened cream on top before handing a bowl to me.

The cream is rich and the sweetness not at all overpowering, the tartness of the strawberries providing welcome contrast. I close my eyes so as better to savor the flavors.

"So," Madge says, settling down with bowl of strawberries on the floor and beginning to attach the waistband to her skirt with needle and thread. "I did some research in the library today and I feel like I've found the basics. Coal is formed from plant matter that goes those several stages over hundreds of years, it was discovered as an energy source shortly before the formation of district twelve-"

"That's not true." I blurt out.

She looks confused. "Oh? How do you know?"

"My dad told me, he told me there were mining towns here for hundreds of years, before Panem even. Before the Capitol, even when there were states instead of districts."

"Oh, well why would they publish it if it's not true?"

"They're the standard issue Capitol books right?" I reply. I realize that what I'm saying may raise suspicion about me if heard by the wrong ears. Somehow I trust Madge, but I lower my voice in case the Mayor or Mrs Undersee can hear. "The Capitol will say a lot of things. Like that the electric fence is there to protect us."

Madge nods carefully. "Or that the games are a chance for fame and glory."

There's a stretch of silence between us. I can tell we're both thinking about Peeta and Keena. Today would wrap up their first day of training.

"Well, if we're looking for a passing grade we'd better follow the book. But we can do more research on the real story if you want to." Madge says, finally.

I shrug. "It's all the same to me."

Another pause. I'm really not good at making conversation. I stuff my mouth with strawberries in order to give myself an excuse.

"What are the woods like?"

I swallow my food quickly. "What?"

"Well, I thought, since you go there all the time… I'm sorry, it was a silly question."

"They're beautiful."

She looks up from her sewing. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, but also risky to go into, if you don't have weapons. There are bears, and wild dogs, but not as many as the peacekeepers will have you believe. There's something about being under all those trees… And there's actually a lot of old structures out there. Most of the remnants are just the stone bits, Gale and I found a fireplace with a full chimney once. And there's apple and cherry trees left over from old orchards. And of course, all the wild plants…"

I realize I'm rambling and cut myself short, but Madge's eyes are shining.

"It sounds incredible." She breathes.

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"Could you…" She trails off again.

I tilt my head. "Would you… like to see it sometime?"

"Yes! Very much."

"Alright," I go over Gale's schedule in my mind. I don't think he'll take too kindly to me bringing Madge with us into the woods, but he'll start mining soon, and then I'll only be able to hunt with him on Sundays. Not that I'm considering Madge as a hunting partner, but the company might be nice, at least for a day. "How about Monday? After school?"

"Sounds perfect."

She finishes off the last stitches of the waistband and shakes out the colorful fabric, then pulls it over her hips and cinches it at her waist with her fingers.

"I still need to add buttons and hem it, but what do you think?"

"It looks good." I say, and it does. The bright fabric drapes over her hips, accentuating her figure in a flattering way. "I like the pattern."

She smiles. "Marigolds, right?"

I nod, mentally going over what I know about the plant. It doesn't have much practical use, unless it's the Calendula variety, but from what my mother has told me, it carries a lot of symbolism. From grief over the loss of love, to the warmth of the rising sun, to desire for wealth, to goodwill in new relationships. Somehow all those meanings manage to coexist in one plant. I can only imagine that someone receiving a bouquet of marigolds would have trouble decoding the message.

"Is it for you?"

"No, for my mom, if she wants it." Madge lets go of the skirt and lets it fall around her ankles, then scoops up the leftover fabric. "I won't be using all of it, would you like the rest? There's about three quarters of a yard left."

"Oh no, I couldn't. Thank you."

"Consider it payment for the strawberries."

"Those were a gift."

"So is this."

I reluctantly take the fine fabric, already thinking of what I could do with it. I Could patch up Prim's new coat, for one, as well as the rest of our worn clothes. And I'm sure Prim could make all manner of pretty things with it. Sachets, bows, doll clothes, things that I don't have time for, but she should.

"Thank you, I should get going now." I say, gesturing towards the window where we can already see the sun dipping below the treeline.

"Alright, and Katniss, Monday after school?"

I nod an affirmation.

The square is awash in golden light from the setting sun, casting long, dark shadows across the worn brick walkways. I realize I still have a string of squirrels on my belt and decide to give the baker's another shot. When I peek into the windows, it's Peeta's father I see running the shop. I make my way around to the side door and knock.

A few, long minutes later, Mr. Mellark answers. His face looks haggard, like he hasn't been getting enough sleep. The reason why is obvious.

"Hello lass, what can I do for you today?"

I hold up my squirrels. There's four in total. "I was wondering if we could trade for some sugar."

"Of course, of course."

I was expecting to have to haggle, but he turns immediately back to his shop and comes back a minute later with a five pound bag of sugar and a loaf of herbed bread.

"This is too much-"

He shakes his head. "This is extra sugar that I don't need, and this bread was always your mother's favorite. Be sure to take it to her."

I reluctantly accept the items, and hand over the squirrels. The baker stares off into the distance for a moment.

"You know, this was always my boy's favorite time of day." He says, gesturing at the setting sun and the sky awash with soft orange. "It was his favorite color. The sky, he'd paint it whenever he could."

I bite my lip, unsure of what to say. I still feel like I owe the boy with the bread. I realize that his father has already started talking about him in the past tense.

"Well," I say, carefully, "if you need anything, for grief, or depression, my mother says she might be able to help."

I mentally kick myself, realizing my attempt at comfort came out sounding like a business proposal.

"Yes, I might stop by." He says. "Well, goodbye lass. Walk safely."

I walk back home, with all my winnings from the day, as the shadows stretch and darken around me.

Madge's Strawberries and Cream

You will need:

2 cups of strawberries, sliced

1 cup of heavy cream

1/8-¼ cup of sugar

Directions: Mix cream and sugar together in a bowl. Whisk, or use an electric mixer until it reaches the desired thickness. Then spoon over sliced strawberries. Serve immediately.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this long ass chapter. have a good day and don't forget to review! I like feedback.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6, Katniss POV. Sunday, June 29th  
Today Gale and I trek further than we ever have into the woods. Up into the mountainside, jumping streams, moving past ruin after ruin of old homes. He looks so content with every step we take away from the district. I almost don’t have the heart to pull back. Almost.  
When I tell him I’m going home, there’s an unspoken question in the air: Are you coming with me? He does, of course he does, it would be stupid to run away on the fly like that, and we have plans to get both our families together for the evening, but the question still hangs between us as we make our way back to Twelve.   
When we are back in our usual stomping grounds, checking Gale’s snare line once again, gathering and shooting whatever else is immediately around us, Gale breaks the silence.  
“I don’t want to go down there, Catnip.”  
I look at him, and he looks almost small. Scared. Like the fourteen year old boy who stood on stage with me after both our fathers died in the mines.  
“You don’t have to…” I say, carefully. “You could fake an illness. My mother would vouch for you.”  
He laughs dryly. “For how long? Any illness that could keep me from mining would also keep me from hunting, and sooner or later, I’m going to have to hunt. If I got caught that’d be it.”  
I don’t say anything. I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to give him any false hope, not that I think it would work. Instead I focus on a squirrel in the tree above us. I shoot it cleanly and go to retrieve it.  
“I’m going to have to go, Katniss, and the wages will be nice, I won’t have to trade for everything any more, but if anything happens to me I want you to promise me to keep up the snare line, and do your best to keep my family fed.”  
“Of course.” We’ve had this conversation before. Usually right before the reaping, but this is different. The mines offer a slow death, whether it’s decades from now succumbing to black lung, or suddenly in an accident. But it’s inescapable.  
He nods, then stiffens silently and gestures for me to look over my shoulder. Behind me, is a large buck. We both move into position, draw our arrows, and fire.  
Madge POV  
The marigold skirt has hung on the doorknob of my mother’s bedroom for the past two days. If she notices, she doesn’t let on.  
Today is the day of the televised tribute interviews. Yesterday they had released their training scores. Keena had a five, while Peeta had an eight. Altogether not bad.  
I hear the Capitol anthem blaring from our tv set and head to the living room. My father and our housekeeper are already there. After making sure our lace curtains are drawn and obscuring our faces, I settle between them.  
Caesar Flickerman, this year with bright blue hair and eyebrows, cackles as he introduces the new tributes, all done up in fancy outfits, to the Capitol audience. There’s the career tributes, polished and burly, interspersed with two wispy looking kids from district three. Then there’s five, with a girl named Finch, who has fiery red hair and sharpened features like a fox, and says everything with a cool, calculated air. She’s followed by a boy with mud-brown hair who is so nervous that he continually fidgets with his tribute token, a simple pewter ring.  
Districts six, seven, eight, and nine pass in a blur. District ten has a tall, gangly girl who spends her interview making jokes, and a quiet, reserved boy who appears to have a bad leg. He spends his interview talking about the herd of cows he takes care of at home.  
With district eleven, Rue, the little girl, comes out dressed in a fluttery fairy’s gown, her dark hair has been braiding into cornrows that form a swirling pattern, and are clipped with twinkling gemstones. She looks like she’s come from an entirely different world. She talks about her home, how she picks fruit and jumps from treetop to treetop.   
“I’m hard to catch,” she says, “And if they can’t catch me, they can’t kill me, so don’t count me out.”  
Her district partner, Thresh, wears a deep, forest green, shimmering suit, which matches Rue’s in color, but nothing else. Fairy garb probably wouldn’t suit him, anyway. He answers all of Caesar’s questions with clipped, one-word replies, and doesn’t seem at all concerned with playing towards the Capitol sponsors.  
Finally, district twelve. Keena looks radiant in an Ombre orange and red dress. She plays to the Capitol audience’s heartstrings by talking about the little boy she needs to get back to. Not that it makes much difference to them. But the highlight of her interview is when she twirls her dress, and the reflective gemstones embedded in the fabric give the illusion of flames with the movement.  
“Keena Murkier, the girl on fire!” Caesar Flickerman crows.  
Peeta’s interview is the final one, which can be an advantage, as it offers a lasting impression. He plays off of Caesar’s personality easily, joking about the Capitol’s showers. Then Caesar turns the conversation over to Peeta’s romantic life.  
“So, Peeta, tell me, fine young man like you must have ladies throwing themselves at you. Is there anyone special at home?”  
“Well, there is this one girl, but I don’t think she even knew my name before the Reaping.”  
“Well, tell you what, you win this thing, go home, and then she can’t ignore you. Right? So, tell me about this girl.”  
Peeta then starts going into detail on how he met her, on the first day of kindergarten, wearing a red plaid dress, with her hair in two braids instead of one. And I’m frozen, because I’m beginning to realize who he’s talking about. The day he was talking about. It seems she made quite an impression that day, on multiple people.  
“My dad pointed her out to me, told me, ‘I used to be in love with her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner because he could sing so sweetly, the mockingjays would stop and listen.’ And then, when the teacher asked if anyone knew the valley song, her hand shot straight in the air. She sang, and all the birds went silent. And I knew, just like my father, that I was a goner.”  
Caesar laughs with delight. “An inter-generational love story! How quaint! But give us names, Peeta, we need names!”  
Peeta looks like he’s debating it, but eventually he opens his mouth and gives the answer that most of us here in the district already knew.  
“Katniss Everdeen.”  
Well, that was unfortunate.  
Katniss POV  
I pick at the squirrel carcass on my plate, acutely aware of everyone’s eyes on me. I am starting to regret getting my family and Gale’s together today, though I had no way of knowing that Peeta Mellark would declare his love for me on national television.  
I couldn’t be sure it was real, of course, it could be a sob story to attract sponsors. But why pick me? Instead of one of the many town girls I’m sure he was more well acquainted with? And I do vaguely remember that day…  
Prim speaks first, though it’s directed at our mom, not me.   
“Mr. Mellark? And you?”  
She sighs. “He came courting once, but by that time I’d already fallen for your father. And he’d already entered an arranged marriage with his wife. Had a baby on the way. It would never have worked out.”  
“Sounds like he hasn’t let it go, though.” Hazelle says. She turns to me. “That Mellark boy, he ever talk to you?”  
I shake my head.  
“Well, it looks as though doomed romance runs in the family.”  
I can feel Gale looking at me. When eye meet his eyes, his face shows an indecipherable mix of emotions. I stand abruptly.  
“I think we might have left Lady out of her pen.” I say. “I should go check on her before it gets dark.”  
“I’ll go with you!” Prim says. I try to dissuade her, but she’s already putting on her shoes.  
When we’re halfway between Gale’s house and ours, Prim runs in front of me and stops me in my tracks.  
“Katniss are you okay?”  
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”  
“You’re acting like you want to crawl in a hole and hibernate.”  
I can’t help but laugh.  
“Okay, yeah. I don’t how to feel about… this.”  
“About him?”  
“Well its not as simple as that is it? He’s as good as dead now.”  
Prim doesn’t say anything then, just steps forward and wraps me in a hug.  
“It’s so strange.” I say, “He’s got so many other friends, so many town girls who would have him, and he’s never even spoken to me before the reaping. Why would he tell Panem he’s in love with me?”  
“You don’t think it’s real?”  
“How could it be? And now, everyone’s just going expect me to be his heartbroken lover. And I’m sad, yes… But not in the way they’re going to want. And then there will be Capitol interviews… If he makes it to the final eight that is… And I won’t know what to do or say about it. I’m already getting stares.”  
And it’s true, even as we walk home there are people on the streets or out resting on their porches, sending me pitying looks. I duck my head as we pass by.  
“People won’t stare at you… If they do I’ll- I’ll have Buttercup sit on top of my head and go everywhere with him. Then they’ll be too busy staring at me to pay you any attention.”  
I give her a half smile. “Thanks Prim, it’s just, I know people expect things from me. Romantic things. People in the Hob are always asking when Gale and I will ‘get together already’, and now with Peeta…” I shake my head.  
“And I can’t deliver. I just… don’t have romantic feelings for boys. And I don’t want to get married and have kids of my own. I don’t think I ever will.”  
We’ve arrived at our one-room clapboard house. Daisy is secured in her pen, which of course I knew, Prim would never leave the house without making sure.  
“What about girls?” Prim asks, as we climb the steps to our doorway.  
“Hmm?”  
“You said you don’t have any feelings for boys, and of course it’s okay if you don’t like anyone at all, but what about girls?”  
“Girls? I’m not sure. I haven’t really thought about it much.”  
There are a few same gender couples in twelve that I know of, but they all seem to like to keep their lives private. In fact, relations between people of the same sex doesn’t seem to be something anyone here really wants to talk about.   
The only girl my age I’m at all close to is Madge. And I’ve always supposed she’s pretty, but only in the way that anyone looking at her couldn’t help but see. At least that’s what I’d thought…  
“Well, if you do or you don’t it doesn’t make any difference to me.” Prim says. “Just do what you like. And if anyone tries to push you into something you don’t want, I’ll give them a talking-to.” She draws herself up and puffs her chest up to make herself look bigger. The effect is almost comical.  
“Thanks Prim, and how are you feeling? I’m sorry I’ve been leaning on you so heavily.”  
She deflates a little. “I’m scared. I don’t want to have to watch. And that girl Rue is so little. She’s my age. What’s going to happen to her?”  
I only answer the first part, because we both know it’s rare for anyone under sixteen to win the games. Finick Odair was the youngest, at fourteen.  
“You don’t have to watch, Prim. You can stuff cotton in your ears and shut your eyes if you need to, it’s just important that the Peacekeepers see us all tuned in.”  
“That isn’t much better.”  
“I know, but it’s what we’ve got.”  
We settle into bed, and our mother arrives home soon afterwards. Prim is already asleep, but I rouse myself and help her put away her things.   
“Hazelle insisted we take the leftovers.” She says, holding up a covered pot.  
“We’ll have to repay her, somehow.”  
She nods.  
“You should talk to Gale, you know.”  
“Why, does he have something to say?”  
“I think he does.”  
I sigh. Talking to Gale shouldn’t be a daunting prospect, but I have a feeling this particular conversation won’t go in a direction I’m comfortable with.  
“Okay, but we should both get some sleep now.” I say.  
She’s already climbing under the covers.  
“Goodnight Katniss.”  
“Goodnight.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**Katniss POV**

**Monday, June 30th**

_I’m underground, that much is obvious. The only light comes from a flickering lantern attached to a cart, and the ringing impacts of pickaxes against stone echo through the narrow space. I’m in the mines. A spark floats past my vision, and I just have time to catch sight of my father’s curly black hair before flames envelope everything._

I wake up screaming.

“Katniss?” Prim whispers groggily.

“It’s okay- just a nightmare.” I say as I try to catch my breath.

She flips over in our shared bed, and rubs small circles on my back until she falls back asleep a few minutes later.

I’m still awake though, and after over an hour of restless tossing and turning I give up on sleeping any more and get out of bed. There’s no true daylight yet, but it’s that hour before dawn when there’s just enough light that my surroundings are visible, but sapped of color. Like a grayscale photo.

I pull on my father’s hunting jacket and leave the house, not really having any idea of where I’m going, until I find myself standing in front of the Hawthorne’s home. I can see Gale through the small kitchen window of the clapboard house, spreading jam on a tesserae biscuit. He’s already getting ready for work.

It’s then that reality hits me full force: He’s going to be in those mines ten hours a day, six days a week for all of our foreseeable future. I will have to do most of hunting alone, set the snare line alone, and hope it catches half as much prey as when he does it. He’ll be spending most of the rest of his life working for meager wages in a place that already took one person I cared for from me, and I don’t want to lose him too.

Gale looks up from his breakfast and starts a little when he sees me through the window, he disappears from in front of the graying glass pane, and shortly afterward, the front door opens.

“Mornin’, Catnip.”

“Morning.” I pull him into a quick hug, surprising both of us.

“Hey,” he says, softly, “I’m about to start walking to the mines, do you want to come with me? At least, part of the way?”

I nod, wordless. He breaks his biscuit in two and offers me half, but I way it away.

“You’re going to need it more.”

We start walking down the well-worn path towards the mines, and it doesn’t take long for Gale to break the silence.

“So, Peeta’s in love with you, huh?”

I shrug. “That’s what he says, anyway.”

Gale snorts derisively. “Does he even know you?”

“Not really.”

“Ridiculous.”

I shrug again.

“Katniss… There’s something I’ve been meaning to say.”

My stomach drops. I know where this is going.

“It’s not like I can top confessing on live television in front of all of Panem… Though I’m glad that’s not how this is happening, but… I have feelings for you, and have for a while.”

“I’m really sorry.” I blurt out.

He looks at me quizzically. “That’s… a response.”

“I’m sorry,” I say again, “I just, don’t want that with you- or with anyone, I don’t think, I mean, we’re like _family,_ Gale.”

“Right.”

We fall into silence.

“You know,” He says. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever fallen for.”

“And?” I ask.

“And shouldn’t that count for something?”

“For what? For a reason to start something with you I don’t want to start?”

He huffs. “Well, when you put it that way…”

We’ve arrived at the mines. Coal carts rattle on their tracks and dozens of workers mill about, strapping on helmets and grabbing tools. I pull back, unwilling to get any closer.

“Stay safe, Gale.”

“Thanks, you too.” He says, without looking back.

I turn on my heel and head home to start getting ready for school.

**Madge POV**

There’s a general uneasiness hanging over the school. First thing tomorrow, the games would begin, and everything would become about the viewings. Most of us hate watching, but some of my peers watch attentively just to determine how best to survive if they themselves were reaped.

I glance over at Katniss. She’s sitting in her usual seat next to me, but she seems to be in another place entirely. Her lips are drawn in a thin line, and she fidgets with her pencil nervously as the teacher drones on about the significance of the Games as symbolism, for punishment, second chances, etc. Standard Capitol Propaganda.

 I wonder how she’s faring, with Peeta’s public confession at the interviews last night. It’s bitterly sad, and at this point, nothing good can come out of it.

I’d seen my fair share of the other merchant kids teasing Peeta for being ‘in love’ with Katniss growing up, but I’d never believed it was really true. I didn’t understand how you could love someone you’d never interacted with. But here we are, and now our classmates are shooting Katniss shifty looks, trying to scope out her reaction. I shoot a glare at Delly Cartwright, who has been staring open-mouthed for a full minute, and she abashedly returns her attention to the board.

Katniss doesn’t say much for the rest of the day, even as we’re handing our coal project in. Honestly, at this point I’m fully expecting her to call off our afternoon in the woods, but when I grab my bag and leave the building with a crowd of other kids, she’s there, by the first fencepost enclosing the play area, waiting for me.

She looks me up and down, taking note of the attire I picked out for today. Leather boots, work pants, and a faded gray shirt. She nods with approval.

“You ready to go?”

“To the-“ I catch myself before I mention the woods, not wanting to get either of us in trouble.

“To work on our project! Yes, let’s go!”

She half smiles. “Subtle.” She whispers.

She leads me through the meadow, to the fence that marks the border of the district.

“Listen, what do you hear?”

I strain my ears. I catch a few bird calls, and a frog croaking.

“Just some animals.”

“But no buzz?”

I listen again, and shake my head.

“Right, if the fence is on, you’ll hear a kind of hum, but it’s not, so it’s safe to go under it.”

She leads me to a spot where the fence has loosened from the ground and lifts it up for me. I get down on my hands and knees and wriggle through with some difficulty. She slips through easily after me.

“Come on.”

The trees tower above us and soon obscure everything else from view. I breath in the scent of pine needles and earth. It feels so peaceful here.

I can sense the tension melting away from Katniss, too. Without everyone’s eyes on her, her step is lighter, her movements more fluid, her demeanor calmer.

She leads me to a hollow log and retrieves her bow and quiver from inside it.

“Stay close.” She says.

We continue along a narrow trail until we reach a rocky outcropping overlooking a large clearing in the forest.

“This is where Gale and I usually meet up.”

I notice a gruffness in her voice when she mentions Gale’s name, but I don’t press it.

She gestures at the field below. “I’m going to need to bring in a lot of food today, so if you’d like to gather with me, there’s a patch of the strawberries you like down there.”

I nod emphatically. “Sure! What else is there to pick?”

She looks a little surprised by my eagerness. “Um, well, there’s White Man’s Foot.” She gestures at a small, unassuming green leafy plant growing on the trail between us. “It’s really good for healing wounds, but it’s edible too. Kind of has a mushroom-y flavor. And then there’s Clover, Wild Carrot, Dandelion, Miner’s Lettuce…” She shows me plant after plant, rattling off their identifying characteristics and uses. I do my best to absorb all of it.

“When you’re picking, be careful to only get the plant you’re going for, nothing that might be growing around it. And don’t pick too much- make sure the plant can still grow. If you ever find something you’re not sure about, have me take a look at it.” She instructs, handing me a bag for my finds.

“Got it!” I take the bag and set off for an especially tantalizing patch of wild strawberries while she heads for another. While I’m picking, I mentally rattle over the plants she’d just shown me, trying to pick them out in the field around me. There’s wild carrot, its hairy stems and carrot smell setting it apart from its deadly lookalike, Poison Hemlock. There’s violet, and of course dandelion…

While I work, I find myself humming a song we’d learned back when we still had music class. It was very old, pre-dark days even, but it had a tune that was easy to slip into, as I worked to fill the compartments of my bag with greens and berries.

When Katniss joins in on the song, it’s so soft at first that I don’t even notice it. But before I know it, the birds around us in the field have gone silent, and there’s nothing but the clear, sweet sound of Katniss’s voice, overlaying my humming, filling the field.

_Lavender’s green dilly dilly, lavender’s blue,_

_If you love me dilly dilly, I will love you._

_Let the birds sing dilly dilly, and the lambs play,_

_We shall be safe dilly dilly, out of harm’s way._

_I love to dance dilly dilly, I love to sing,_

_When I am queen dilly dilly. You’ll be my king._

_Who told me so dilly dilly, who told me so?_

_I told myself dilly dilly, I told me so._

 

She finishes the song on a soft, low, note, and after a few seconds of utter silence, the birds return to their singing, the mockingjays taking on the tune, hundreds of little voices overlapping like a choir.

Katniss looks up at me, then glances away. I realize that I’m openly staring and busy myself with the strawberries I’m picking.

A few minutes later, she comes up beside me and brushes her hand against my shoulder.

“I’ve got to go check the snare line soon, I can take you back to the district if you like, it’s an hour and a half walk.”

“Oh, no, I’ll go! That is, if that’s okay.”

A glimmer of surprise shows on her face. “You really like it out here, don’t you?”

I just nod an affirmation.

“Okay, well, the trail starts here.” She gestures at a small opening in the bushes at the edge of the field.

I shoulder my bag of foragables and follow her back into the woods.

I almost miss the first snare, I don’t know how Katniss spotted the thin wire, but it must have been years of routine. It had been tripped, but whatever was in it must have escaped or been dragged away, because it was hanging empty. Katniss resets it and we move on.

The rest of the trail is sparse as well. We only find one rabbit, and I can see Katniss growing tenser and tenser in front of me. She’s holding her bow and arrow at the ready and I guiltily wonder if my presence, being unaccustomed to the forest as I am, made it harder for her to hunt.

Maybe I should have gone home when she’d offered.

I try to pad as softly as I could along the forest floor, but I couldn’t keep the twigs from crunching under my feet. Finally, I pulled my shoes off and went on in my socks, ignoring the sensation of sticks digging into my feet. I would need softer shoes, like Katniss’s leather boots, not the clunky work shoes I’d picked out.

I can tell Katniss is relieved when we come across a wild turkey, undisturbed, searching for grubs on the forest floor a few dozen yards away. She draws her bow and shoots, and the bird falls down dead.

“Stay here, I’ll be back.” She bounds after her prize.

I survey the immediate area, going over the plants Katniss had just shown me, trying to see if there was anything I could add to our meager haul. I spot some bright red fruits in the canopy above, and on closer inspection, the reveal themselves to be cherries. Katniss had talked about old orchard trees in the area, this must be one of them.

I eagerly wade into the underbrush, climbing on top of a fallen log to pull the lowest branch down into my reach. I reach up and begin plucking the bright red cherries from the branch, filling a new compartment of my bag with them.

“Madge, good find.” Katniss says. I jump at her voice and twist to see he standing just to the left of me. She approached so silently I hadn’t even realized she was here.

I feel myself wobbling on the log and try frantically to grasp onto the branch above to steady myself, but I lose my grip and fall backwards into the bushes, knocking my head on something heavy.

“Madge!”

I stare upwards dazedly, and Katniss’s concerned face appears in my line of vision.

“m’ alright.” I mumble.

She helps me sit up, and I realize the cherries and strawberries are spilling out of my bag.

“Oh no!” I hurry to scoop them up. I’m relieved to see that most of them aren’t smashed.

“I should take you home, Madge.”

I duck my head, embarrassed that my clumsiness had to cut our trip short. I had probably scared off all the game in a mile’s radius. My head throbbed, there would be a lump for sure, but I didn’t think it was anything serious.

“Okay, just let me get the rest of these.” I say, as I scramble after a couple of cherries that had rolled further away.

I pick up the last few cherries, and come face to face with what I hit my head on.

It was a stone, large, tall, and square, with an engraving on it. I could just make out the words:

_Here lies Jamie Leone_

_Proud coal miner for twenty-three years_

_Born 1959, Died 2003._

I do the math in my head, this stone must be ancient, pre-dark days, pre-districts, even. I wave Katniss over.

“Look! You were right about the old mining towns, this proves it!”

She examines the stone with a furrowed brow, then glances around us.

“There’s more too.”

And she’s right. They weren’t originally visible, obscured by bushes and covered with brambles, but we’re surrounded by headstones, we’re standing in an ancient graveyard.

“We should go. Get your head taken care of.” Katniss is already making her way back to the trail.

I reluctantly follow her. Now that I know for sure people were mining coal before Panem, I wonder what the reason was for falsifying the textbooks. Wouldn’t it be useful for district twelve to know the full history of coal? All the old mining methods?

What was there that could be worth hiding?

**Katniss POV**

I take Madge back to my house, where my mother and Prim are setting a teenager’s broken arm. He looks to be about fourteen. I know him by face, but not by name. Prim waves brightly when she sees Madge, and our bags.

“Ooh, did you two go foraging?”

“Yeah,” I say, “but Madge got a nasty knock on the head. Do you think you can help?”

“Yeah, one second.”

She finishes a tie on the sling she’s working on with our mother, then darts to the back of the room to grab a tin.  

“Let me see your head.”

Madge leans down to let Prim examine her head. Prim parts her hair to find where the bruising is and begins applying ointment to Madge’s scalp.

“This is Comfrey ointment, good for the three B’s: Bumps, bruises, and breaks. We’re giving some of the same stuff to Conrad over there.” She nods at the boy sitting on the kitchen table, with our mother busying over securing a sling around his arm. “He fell out of a tree in the w-“

“SHH!” Conrad protests loudly.

“Sorry, I mean he just fell.” She turns back towards Conrad. “She just came from the woods, do you really think she’d tell?”

Conrad just shrugs. I wonder what he was doing out there. I hadn’t seen him there before, and it wasn’t apple gathering season. I glower darkly, wondering if he was the reason so many snares came up empty. I can’t say for sure, but I’ll be keeping an eye out from now on.

“Anyway,” Prim says, “You’ve got to keep applying this every so often  for the next few days, you should also keep a cool cloth on it to make the swelling go down.” She hands Madge the tin of comfrey cream.

“Thank you,” Madge says, “How can I pay you?”

“Umm,” Prim chews her lip, thinking. She and our mother usually get paid in old jars, candles, portions of food, whatever folks have on hand, really. This was the first time she’d had a customer from the town, where people were well off enough to visit the official district twelve apothecary, which charged coin.

“Well, what do you have?”

 _What doesn’t she have is a better question._ I think.

“Uh, well I have some money, clothes if you want them, books, sheet music-”

“Oh!” Prim’s eyes light up. “How about piano lessons?”

“Really?” Madge looks startled. “Well, yeah, I suppose I could do that.”

And suddenly it’s decided. Prim will go over to Madge’s house twice a week for piano lessons. It seems frivolous to me, but Prim is so excited about it I don’t question it. She waves Madge and Conrad out the door with a promise to see Madge in a few days.

Before leaving, Madge and I discuss splitting our haul for the day. She wants to leave the whole of it with me, but I refuse. Eventually we settle on a deal: She takes the strawberries we’d both gathered, and I take the rest.

I take the bag in, sifting through it to make sure she didn’t get any of the wrong plants. I’m impressed with what she’d managed to gather. It appeared she had remembered everything I’d shown her, collecting a fair amount of each, plus the cherries.

Some people have an eye for plant recognition, and it seemed Madge had it.

What we’d gathered, combined with Gale and my game from yesterday, would be enough for a little while at least. Not for long, though, when the games viewings will prevent me from going into the woods as much.

I survey our small kitchen area. We have strips of venison drying over the stove from yesterdays kill, as well as some coin from Rooba for the rest of it. The leftover bones of a raccoon are simmering in a pot, making a stock. There’s also a few morel mushrooms, which I’m assuming Conrad left in payment, and a pitcher of goat milk from Lady. It’s something.

I look at my game bag. Just one rabbit, and the turkey I’d shot. It had been agreed that I would just take whatever the snares had caught back to the Hawthornes everyday, but one rabbit wouldn’t be nearly enough for their family of five. I resolve to take them the turkey as well.

I leave the bags of fruits and greens on the table, still strewn with medicinal herbs, and head out for the Hawthorne’s.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

**Katniss POV**

The countdown begins onscreen. The camera pans over the faces of the tributes, some resolute, most terrified.

57, 56, 55,

My mother, Prim, and I all sit around our one room house, in view of the tv. Prim is at the stove, heating goats milk to be made into cheese, mother is hand grinding tesserae grain into course flour, and I’m removing pits from the cherries Madge had picked.

43, 42, 41,

We each had a task, preparing and processing food for later, but it still wasn’t enough. I wish I could be spending this time in the woods gathering more. The mandatory viewings would barely allow me enough time before sundown to check the snare line.

32, 31, 30,

I catch a glimpse of Peeta’s face. He’s looking back and forth between the woods behind him, and the supplies ahead. The camera circles dramatically, displaying the supplies laid out on the ground and the surrounding environment, a field, with woods on one side and a drop-off filled with tall grasses on the other.

24, 23, 22,

The camera focuses on the careers, pretty much all of whom were flexing, cracking their knuckles, putting on a show for the cameras, and the sponsors.

18, 17, 16,

The tributes shift back and forth on their feet, ready to run.

13, 12, 11,

I hear Prim whimper in the background. I turn to see her absently stirring the goat’s milk, eyes locked on the little girl from eleven as her face flashes across the screen.

7, 6, 5,

The camera flashes over Keena, her mouth in a resolute line.

3, 2, 1, 0.

The gong sounds, and the camera pans away to an overhead shot of the tributes running. Some away from the cornucopia, but most towards it. I spot Peeta grabbing what was close to his pedestal and running away. Soon, the violence breaks out, and the cameras zoom in and split into three to focus on the gore. I look down at cherries I’m working on, but the red juices covering my fingers as I halve them and pull the pits out look uncomfortably like the blood onscreen.

Within minutes, the bloodbath is over. Whoever had managed to escape had run to the woods, and the careers stand in the center of the field, whooping as the cannons begin to sound off. Ten of them. There are six careers, as per usual, but I realize that one of them is the scrawny district three boy. I wonder what he could possibly offer that they would let him into the pack. One of the typical careers is missing too. The boy from district four, who I realize is among the dead.

“Well, isn’t that _something!”_ Caesar Flickerman’s booming voice emanates from the tv set. The screen shifts to him, plus another capitol tv host, sitting at a sparkling purple table as a screen behind them depicts events in the arena.

“Nothing like a good bloodbath to get you in the spirit of the games, isn’t that right Maudilla?”

Caesar’s co-host, a wiry woman with hot pink hair that was cut in straight, flat bangs across her forehead, but teased into a wild, fluffy cone of curls on top, nods emphatically, jostling her cone of curls wildly.

“Just _so,_ Caesar, and what a bloodbath we have today, just like that, each of the remaining tribute’s chances of winning have nearly _doubled!_ And this is something we rarely see, a district three-er in with the _Careers!_ My, I wonder what he must have up his sleeve!”

Caesar laughs delightedly and pulls up a clip from the district three boy’s interview. His name flashes at the bottom of the screen, Dusky.

“I’m from district three, so naturally, I’m v _ery_ tech savvy. My specialty is explosives.”

Caesar replays the clip a few times as the Capitol audience oohs and ahhs.

“It seems we might have to keep an eye on old Dusky here!” Caesar cackles jovially. “But wait, what’s happening here?”

They zoom back into the arena to focus on the cornucopia area. The careers have started carrying the supplies, food, tents, weapons, from the cornucopia to the camping space they picked out. I spot the district three boy, Dusky, digging up the ground around one of the pedestals. But the cameras don’t focus on him, instead, moving towards the edge of the forest, where I can make out the red-headed girl from district five. She was one of the ones that ran away without grabbing a single thing. Her name flashes at the bottom of the screen: Finch.

Dusky is busy digging, the careers are occupied with moving the supplies to their designated camping spot, but there’s too much for them to possibly carry all at once. Everyone’s preoccupied, and Finch takes her opportunity.

She darts out from the woods, heading for the dwindling pile of supplies, grabs two backpacks, and runs back, without anybody even noticing.

She’s clever, I have to admit.

“My, that is a _shining_ example that proves that _brains_ are just as important as brawn in this arena!” Caesar exclaims. “So don’t count someone out just because they’re on the skinny side!”

“Speaking of which,” Maudilla interjects, “let’s check in on our other tributes!”

The camera pans around the arena, displaying each tribute’s name as they come up on screen. There’s Thresh, carrying a large pack and a knife, making his way though some tall grasses that clear the top of his head and obscure everything around him.

Chors, the boy from district ten, leaning heavily on a makeshift crutch he made from a branch as he makes his way through the forest. He’s carrying a tin of crackers and a small med kit, and I’m surprised he made it away from the cornucopia with that much unscathed, considering his bad leg slowing him down.

Then there’s Rue, sitting up in a tree and fashioning a slingshot from a forked branch and a strip of fabric she tore from her shirt, the girls from districts seven and eight, looking furtively over their shoulders, and finally, district twelve.

Keena has made it out with a backpack, and is trekking for higher ground. Peeta has settled between the roots of large tree, in a space partially obscured by bushes. I notice with satisfaction that mud and skunk cabbages abound around him. He’s near a water source.

The camera zooms back to the careers, who are setting up camp and bragging to each other about their training academy days. Dusky is off to the side, fiddling with something, and I raise my eyebrows when I realize it’s a mine, one of the ones deactivated after the countdown went off.

“My my,” Caesar says, “that’s one weapon we’ve never seen used before!”

He laughs, but it sounds forced, even through the tv set. _The Gamemakers put those in place to control the tributes._ I think. _I bet they don’t like the idea of a tribute taking control of them, for their own purposes._

The screen continues to flash. I finish pitting the cherries and lay them out on a pan over the stove to dry. I take over grinding the grain for my mother, and she begins portioning herbs into blends for various ailments. Prim strains the curds out of the whey of her goat’s milk.

After a segment on the careers and their combat skills, the hosts declare that mandatory viewing time was over, though there would be round the clock footage as long as the games continued, and a new mandatory segment that covered the ‘juicy details’ same time tomorrow.

“You won’t want to miss it!”

I empty the contents of the handheld grinder into a tin where we keep the rest of our tesserae flour.

“I’m going to check the snare line.”

“Okay,” my mother says, “Leftover broth and tesserae bread alright for dinner?”

I shrug. “Sounds fine.”

The haul from the snare line is a little better today. Two rabbits and a raccoon. I wish I had time to hunt, but the sun is already dipping to close to the horizon for my liking. I hurry back.

When I reach the Hawthorne’s house with the game, it’s Gale who answers the door, still in his miner’s clothes. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since our argument. I hand him the game bag wordlessly.

“Thanks.” He says.

I just nod.

“And thank you for the turkey yesterday.”

“it was for the kids.” I say, bluntly.

“Of course.” He looks away. “Listen, Katniss, I need to apologize. For the way I was acting yesterday.”

I wait.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have tried to push you. My feelings aren’t your problem, and I shouldn’t have tried to pressure you into something… something you didn’t want so _I_ could feel better. And I’m sorry.”

I nod, then try to think of something to say.

“Well, I accept your apology.”

He holds out his hand. “Friends?”

I take it. “Always.”


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: This chapter needs a trigger warning for sexual harrassment. Please take care of yourself and keep that in mind while reading.**

 

 

 

 

**Chapter Nine**

**Madge POV**

I settle down between my father and Lena, the housekeeper as the Capitol anthem plays. My mother is asleep upstairs, has been for awhile. We keep the volume low so as to keep the noise from filtering up to her.

Yesterday had been the bloodbath. Both Keena and Peeta had survived. It was a better result than most years.

I kick myself, mentally. Better for twelve, maybe. But not better overall. No matter the outcome, twenty three children end up dead, twenty three families are devastated, and eleven districts face nothing but loss.

Scenes begin to flash across the screen. A dramatized recap of what had transpired through the last twenty-four hours. They spend a great deal of time on the careers, hunting down a district eight tribute who had been desperate enough to build a fire the first night. They show her death again and again, through multiple different angles, and in slow motion.

I begin to feel ill.

Finally, the cameras shift to the other tributes. They spend a lot of time on Thresh, who had an encounter with a wild boar and barely made it out unscathed, then shift to Finch, the district five girl, as she moves through the arena seemingly undetected, keeping tabs on all the other tributes.

When they shift focus to Keena, my heart sinks.

She’d been bitten by something. The screen cuts to the night before, showing an arrow-headed snake sinking its teeth into her ankle while Caesar Flickerman narrated:

“Oh boy! Bet she didn’t see _that_ coming!”

I clench my fists.

Keena had tied a tourniquet around her knee, preventing the venom from spreading, but now her leg is completely black and blue from the knee down. I realize she probably won’t be able to use it at all from now on.

“If you want to keep our young mother kickin’,” Caesar declares, “Sign up as a sponsor today!”

The screen switches over to Rue, from eleven, who, like Finch, also seems to be doing her best to keep tabs on the other tributes, but does it from the trees rather than the ground. She’s up in a treetop, stripping the limbs of some kind of orange berry. Below her is Chors, the boy from district ten, who seems to be digging a pitfall trap for animals.

They visit the girl from seven briefly, then show Peeta. At first I don’t even see him, he’s so well camouflaged. But then I start to make out his form. He’s covered himself in mud and what seems to be green juices from surrounding plants.  He seems to be napping.

Apparently the Capitol doesn’t find that too interesting because the screen quickly shifts to the hosts, Caesar and Maudilla onstage.

“And now, let us move on to a little segment I like to call: Career Kerfuffles!” Caesar says. “Things don’t always run smoothly in our alliances, and this year is no exception. Let’s take a look.”

The backdrop behind them flares to life and zooms in on Glimmer and Marvel, who are arguing.

“It appears as though Glimmer’s mad because Marvel made a lewd comment about her hind end.” Caesar whispers conspiratorially.

Maudilla covers her mouth with her hands in exaggerated shock. “Oh my!”

“I’m just saying,” Marvel says, “if you didn’t want to hear that kind of stuff you shouldn’t have gone on national television wearing the equivalent of glittery Ceran wrap.”

“I didn’t have any damned choice in that and you know it.” Glimmer spits back. “The stylist puts us in whatever they want and then parades us around like prized pigs.”

“And you should be grateful!” Marvel says. “That see-through number got you loads of attention. There’s a reason you have the most sponsor gifts out of the rest of us. You should make the best of your _ass_ ets.” He grins cockily. “I’m just trying to help you out here.”

“I don’t need your fucking help, and you should be careful about who you harass out here. You don’t have our trainer to run back to every time you push too far.”

“Is that a threat? Little early in the game for that, don’t you think Glimmer? Don’t you want to thin the competition a little more first?”

Glimmer starts walking away. “Just leave me alone and we’ll be fine.”

Caesar fans himself. “My my, such vulgar language!”

Maudilla titters. “That’s no way for our district one dream team to behave, am I right folks? They should just kiss and make up!” The crowd cheers.

I can’t believe how much they’re trivializing what just happened.

“Of course!” Caesar cackles. “But that’s not all that went on today in Career Kerfuffles! Let’s take a look at how our most unlikely career, Dusky of district three, is fitting in.”

The cameras flip to Dusky, making his way through the mines he’d set up earlier to the pile of food. He’s picking out some bread and cheese when Cato calls out.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Dusky jumps and almost drops his bread, then recovers as Cato strides over.

“Just getting some food.”

“Right, that’s not allowed.”

“What?”

“You’re here because you said you could protect the food. Not eat it.”

                Dusky looks like he’s trying very hard to regulate his reaction.

                “I need to keep a clear head to keep the mines functioning. I can’t do that without food.”

                Cato picks up a spear and shoves it toward him.

                “Then hunt something. Prove your worth. Show me I didn’t make a mistake by bringing you along. Cause right now you’re just looking like a useless lump who’s going to be a drain on our rations, and that isn’t good for either of us.”

                My gut twists for the kid.

                He sets his mouth in a thin line, but takes the spear and walks off towards the woods. As he disappears into the trees, I just catch a glimpse of him pulling out the hunk of cheese he’d grabbed. He’d slipped it into his pocket without Cato noticing.

“And that wraps up our segment, as well as mandatory viewing! But don’t leave yet- we have loads of incredible Hunger Games content coming your w-”

My father shuts off the tv.

“That’s enough for tonight.”

I get up, relieved.

“Do either of you want any dinner?” I ask, looking back.

Lena shakes her head. “I think that display made me lose my appetite.”

“No thanks Madge,” my father says, “but do make something for your mom please.”

 

 

 

**A/N: Thank you for reading! I'm sorry this is a short chapter, but I hope you're enjoying and I hope to see you again soon! Thank you to all who reviewed and gave kudos!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter ten, Katniss POV, Thursday, July 3 rd**

Prim and I come back from school to find a cataclysm in our kitchen. Our mother is rushing around, pulling out jars of herbs and putting them back haphazardly. Ripper is there too, talking frantically, and somewhere, I can hear a child whimpering.

“I don’t know what happened, He was fine yesterday, even played with some other kids, but today he can’t stop coughing, he’s burning up, he’s having diarrhea, nothing I did helped, I can’t stay away from my stand to long, I can’t take care of him like this-”

“The most important thing right now is to keep him hydrated.” Our mother says. “Have you gotten him to drink anything?”

“Just a little bit of water, I don’t have much right now, I can pay you in liquor-”

“That’s fine,” our mother says brusquely. “We need that to make tinctures anyway, whenever you can bring some by. We’ll do our best to take care of Runi.”

Ripper sags with relief. “Thank you, I’ll be back tonight, bring some more supplies.”

She nods to Ripper as she leaves, then catches eye of Prim and I standing in the doorway.

“Katniss, please put some water on to boil, Prim, please make a rehydration solution, you know how much sugar and salt right?”

“On it!” Prim sets right to work, while I grab a pot and take it out to the pump for water. While I’m outside, in our small backyard pumping water, I take a deep breath of the smoky, yet relatively clean air.

I can already smell the sickness permeating our house. It makes me want to run back to the woods. But the games will be on soon and I’ll have to watch. I just know I won’t want to be here when I do. Watching Keena struggle onscreen while her son is sickly in the background, her son who she should be with right now, would be too much.

I lug the pot of water back into the house and find my mother and Prim sorting through jars of herbs.

“Should we give him astringent or expectorant herbs first?” Prim asks.

“Astringent, try to stop the diarrhea first. In a child this young, losing fluids like that is dangerous.”

I realize Runi has been tucked into a makeshift bed made from a drawer pulled out of my mother’s dresser and lined with cloth. Her fine dresses are strewn everywhere around it. Runi’s face is flushed and his eyelids are fluttering. He’s clutching his blankets in his fists tightly.

My stomach lurches and I busy myself with building up a fire in our stove to heat the water. The heat from the flames combined with summer heat is making the house uncomfortably hot, and the smell of Runi’s soiled diapers more acute.

“Katniss.” Prim taps my shoulder lightly. I hadn’t even realized she’d gotten up. “You don’t have to stay here. We’ve got this.” She looks at me with concern.

I feel a small bit of shame that my baby sister feels the need to protect me from this, that I can’t handle a simple illness that doesn’t even affect me, but I’m also relieved.

“Alright doctor duckling.”

She frowns in mock offense. “Are you calling me a quack?”

We both laugh shakily, an edge of nervousness in the attempt to lighten the mood.

“I’ll head to the square, then.”

Prim nods, already turning her attention back towards Runi.

Grateful to get away for the moment, I step outside.

 

**Madge PoV**

                As soon as I arrive home I can sense that something is wrong. I can hear voices coming from my father’s office, and as I pass by I can  see the white of a peacekeeper’s uniform through the opening in the door. I peer in, making out the form of head Peacekeeper Cray facing my father.

                “We can’t have that kind of dissenting opinion being spread around here, Undersee.”

                “Surely you understand, my wife isn’t always herself…” My father meets my eyes through the doorway and his widen. He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, but the message is clear: _Go._

I back away as quietly as I can and turn to slip back out the front door. As I’m leaving, I hear Cray say one last thing: “It’d better not happen again.”

                My stomach clenches as I think back to that day in the dress shop with my mother. Some things were said that I’m sure the Capitol wouldn’t approve of. Had one of the other merchants reported us?

                Out in the square, crowds of people are milling around, and I realize it’s almost time for the public viewing of the games. I hear a door slam loudly and flinch, Cray must have just left my house.

                Not wanting to attract his attention, I slip into the crowd just as the screens in front of the justice building come to life. I sign my name on a sheet of paper- mandatory, to show I’m tuning in, and settle down amongst the spectators.

                 The music swells. Caesar Flickerman’s face appears on screen.

                “And now,” his voice rings out. “For the convenience of our working district-dwellers, and those who may have missed any of yesterday’s footage -I won’t judge you- we have our juicy recap! Let’s watch and see how the events of the 74th hunger games unfold!”

                The screens fade into a wide shot of the arena. At the front of the crowd I spot a tall Seam woman with one arm- I recognize her as Keena’s cousin, passing a tin around the crowd, collecting coin for a sponsorship. I work my way to the front to add what’s in my pockets to the pot. From what we saw yesterday, the only way that Keena’s going to make it is if she gets medical supplies.

                Images on the screen flash. The careers hunting and killing the district seven girl. Finch, stealing food from the careers’ stockpile. Peeta digging a trench in a patch of mud and letting it fill with water. Keena, sleeping fitfully…

                I look away, and my eyes light on Katniss, hair pulled back in the usual braid, eyes glued to the screen. The other townspeople keep stealing looks at her. Since Peeta’s confession, many people had suddenly started seeing and talking about her as if she was his heartbroken lover. As if all it took was _Peeta_ showing his interest to solidify in their minds that Katniss must reciprocate, he was a dead man after all, it was the least she could do.

                I myself don’t know how she feels and am not sure if she does either, but I wished people would let her figure it out on her own.

                I wonder how she’s doing, now.

                Before I could try and make my way over to her, Caesar’s voice booms from the speakers.

                “And now, the juiciest bits for last, yesterday saw the birth of a new, and extremely unlikely alliance!”

                The cameras focus on Rue, who has a small pile of nuts and is cracking them one by one on the tree branch she’s perching on. Chors, below, lies in wait by a pitfall trap he’d dug, holding a sharpened stick in hopes that an animal would come through. Eventually, a badger wanders by, better than he ever could have hoped, and crashes through the small layer of sticks and leaves he’d set up, falling heavily into the pit below.

Chors lunges with his makeshift spear, attempting to stab the badger to death, but the animal isn’t going down without a fight. It scratches and claws at Chors repeatedly, before finally succumbing to it’s wounds.

                Chors kneels back, panting and bleeding, but victorious.

                He immediately fumbles for his med kit, pulling out gauze pads and antiseptic in an attempt to patch himself up, but his supplies are limited and it’s clear there won’t be enough to treat the extent of his injuries.

                Rue, who had watched the whole scene unfold, cautiously slips down from her perch and approaches Chors.

                “There’s plants you can use to help with that you know.”

                Chors starts and jumps up, only to have his bad leg buckle underneath him without the support of his cane. He lets himself back to the ground, seeming to assume that the young girl offering him medical assistance probably isn’t a threat.

                “Yeah?”

                Rue leans down and picks a long, bushy leaf from the ground to show to him.

                “This is squirrel’s tail. It’s excellent for stopping bleeding, so if you use it you won’t need to use all your bandages.”

                They settle down together, Rue pounding poultices for Chors, Chors, offering her a dinner of badger meat in return. They set a fire at dusk and start to talk.

                Chors and Rue were from neighboring districts, both focused on farming. Chors had raised herds of cattle for meat, Rue had worked in the highest treetops of the orchard picking fruit.

                Chors was an experienced butcher, allowing him to prepare meat for food, Rue was an excellent gatherer.

                Chors could throw heavy rocks with accuracy and use a staff well, he’d had to do so to defend his herd from predators. They both knew a thing or two about useful plants.

                Chors had trouble getting around without proper crutches, Rue could travel quickly through the treetops.

                It wasn’t long before they decided to combine their skills and form an alliance.

                Finally, the screens shift to Thresh, who is weaving some kind of container out of the grasses that surround him. He looks up, listening for something even the high-tech audio can’t pick up.

                He smiles, and lets out a low, two-note whistle. Faintly, I can just hear a mockingjay pick it up and carry it on.

                The screens go dark and the Capitol anthem plays.

               


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter comes with an ambient noise mix! https://at-home-other.ambient-mixer.com/the-everdeen-home  
> Feel free to listen while reading, and enjoy!

**Chapter Eleven, Katniss PoV. Friday, July 4 th**

It is with an immense sense of relief that I realize that today is a half-day at school. I’ll have time to hunt before the viewings start.

                Last night we’d had tesserae bread and tea for dinner. Less than usual too, because Prim insisted on making most of her share into a soft mush for Runi, and I, in turn, had given her some of my share.

                My stomach growls. We couldn’t live off of the tesserae forever. Or even for long. We need meat. And vegetables.

                I shake Prim awake. She yawns and blinks blearily, then immediately leaps up to go check on Runi.

                I stretch and rise, enjoying the small patch of warmth on the floor created by sunlight filtering through our dusty windows and spilling onto our cracked floorboards.

                “His fever’s gotten worse!” Prim exclaims.

                Just then, our mother bursts in carrying bundles of herbs she’d cut from the garden.

                “Good, you’re awake, I’ll need you to gather herbs from the woods today.”

She sets her basil and chamomile on the table and goes to grab a pencil and paper and begins writing vigorously. Prim begins changing Runi’s soiled diapers and the smell of sewage and illness becomes almost unbearable.

Mother hands me her list of herbs. “I’ll need fireweed, Himalayan Blackberry bark, Horehound, Lungwort, Coyote Mint…”

She rattles off herb after herb, and I get more and more irritated with each one.

“I don’t have time for all of that. I need to hunt.” I say simply.

“We need those herbs to get Runi well, and prep for the winter. We’re running low.”

“Then gather some yourself. You know what they look like.”

She bites her lip. “I… can’t.”

“Why not?? I need to get food on the table. That’s all I have time for.”

“She really can’t, Katniss.” Prim pipes up. “Too many memories.”

I huff. The woods carry plenty of memories for me too. Memories of hunting with my father, playing, singing, memories that bring me grief, though I wouldn’t trade them for anything. I never let that stop _me_ from doing what needed to be done. I’d never had that luxury.

Prim tucks Runi’s blankets back around him and rises.

“I’ll go with you, today, make it an herb gathering day, okay Katniss? And since we’re working together, you’ll have more time to hunt.”

I grudgingly accept that deal, though I’m not optimistic. I’d never leave Prim’s side while we’re out in the wilderness. I’d be too afraid of a predator coming near and not being there in time to protect her. And any animal I’d manage to shoot while in Prim’s vicinity would find itself covered in bandages and sipping water from her cupped hands within the hour.

I busy myself with taking stock of our current larder, and it doesn’t look good. Tesserae grain. A can of beets. Dried mint leaves. Venison Jerky. Salt. Sugar. The cattail flour and pickles. Oil. Nothing Else.

My stomach growls as I begin preparing the Tesserae mush for the umpteenth time. I tear up little bits of the jerky into it, and stalk over to my mother’s herb stores to grab some thyme to use as seasoning. Make it a little more palatable.

If she’s going to cut into my food gathering time for her medicine, why shouldn’t I dip into her medicine for our food?

I’m being petty . I know I am. But it’s satisfying.

My stomach groans again, loudly.

Today would definitely be a hollow day. Might as well get all the satisfaction I can.

**Madge POV**

I wait by the first fence post of the schoolyard as the students mill past, excited to be out early. Prim had planned to come over to my house this afternoon for her first piano lesson, and I didn’t want her getting lost on the way.

I also don’t want to go back to my house alone. All last night, after his encounter with Cray, my father had been shut away in his office, poring over stacks of paper, making phone calls, most with a very urgent tone, from what I heard. I didn’t quite know what was going on, but I knew I hadn’t seen the end of it, and it frightened me.

I’m so lost in thought that I almost don’t notice when Prim does pass by, along with Katniss, until she waves brightly at me.

“Hi Madge! What- oh.” She stops, looking forlornly from me to Katniss, who is looking impatient. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can play piano with you today. I’ve got some chores I really need to get done.”

“Oh.” I force a smile. “That’s okay, I’ll- see you on Monday then. I’ll just head home.”

I turn towards my house when I hear Katniss say, “Do you want to come with us?”

I turn back, my first instinct to cry ‘Yes!’ but then I realize I don’t even know where we’d be going. Katniss clarifies.

“We’re heading to the woods, nothing strenuous, just gathering herbs. We’d love to have you, if you want.”

I almost jump at the opportunity to go out there again. “Sure!”

Katniss leads us through the seam and meadow while Prim explains why they’re going.

“You know Keena, right, do you know her son?”

I shake my head.

“Well, he’s sick. Pretty bad. We’re out here to stock up on medicinal herbs that are mild enough for a two year old.”

“And food.” Katniss says, somewhat gruffly.

Prim nods along.

I suddenly feel anxious. Being so new at gathering, would I slow them down at trying to get the supplies they need? Could I actually help? I remind myself that Katniss wouldn’t have invited me in the first place if she thought it was going to be a problem.

We arrive at the loose patch in the fence. Katniss goes through first, then holds the chain link up for both me and Prim.

Katniss retrieves her bow and Prim shows me a list of medicinal herbs we need to gather. We begin to move deeper into the woods.

I see movement out of the corner of my eye as we pass under a tall oak tree, and Prim gasps.

“Look, a bunny!”

The little cotton-tailed creature is snuffling through the grasses at the base of the tree. I notice Katniss’s hands tighten around her bow, one poised to draw an arrow, and know that she’s aching to shoot it. But Prims is still cooing over how cute it is.

“Hey, Prim, don’t those look like blackberry bushes?” I point to a thicket in the distance, trying to get her attention. I don’t actually know if they’re blackberry bushes, but it’s clear Prim needs to be distracted if Katniss is going to do what she needs to do.

“Oh! Yeah!” Prim darts off towards the bushes, and I follow behind.

It turns out they _are_ blackberries, though there aren’t many ripe ones, yet. That doesn’t matter, it turns out, because what we really need is the bark. And we set to work stripping it from the brambles, ignoring the stickers and picking a few blackberries here and there.

Katniss arrives shortly afterward, the rabbit, already skinned and field dressed, hanging from her belt.

We finish up with the bark, and Katniss directs us towards the other herbs on the list. She leads me to a fallen bough covered in lichen, points out lungwort, and leaves me to gather it while she heads back to Prim to help her pick violets. I set to work, enjoying the feeling of the rumply lichen under my fingertips, and let my mind wander.

I’ve only been out into the woods twice so far, but I’m already feeling at home. It’s comforting knowing that I’m alone, or relatively. Away from prying eyes and expectations for who the mayor’s daughter should be. In a place where the rules were fewer.

We move on through our list, gathering herbs wherever we can. I lose track of time, too focused on my work, but soon Katniss rests her hand on my shoulder, causing me to look up.

“Thank you for the help, but we should head back now, wouldn’t want to miss mandatory viewings.”

**Katniss PoV**

I begin to grow apprehensive as Prim, Madge and I enter our house to drop off our haul. I realize that Madge is used to much more luxury than what we have in our one-room home with three, no, five, people crowded inside, including my mother tending Runi in the corner, and begin to wonder if she’s looking down on us.

I shake it off. There are bigger things to worry about. And Madge doesn’t seem the type.

Prim takes Madge’s hand. “I know you were here a few days ago, but I didn’t get to show you around!”

She leads her around the house, pointing out the half-made remedies on the counter, some of her old toys she’d set out for Runi, if- _when_ he got better. She even introduced her to the damned cat, who sniffed her outstretched hand once and then flicked his tail derisively.

“Buttercup! Don’t be rude!”

“It’s okay.” Madge laughed softly.

“He didn’t hiss at you,” I say, “for him that counts as downright cordial.”

Almost as if to prove my point Buttercup leaps on the tabletop in front of me where I’m laying out our food, and hisses.

I hiss right back.

Our mom stands up, wiping her hands on her apron, and holding one out to Madge in greeting.

“It’s Magdalene, right? Your mother introduced us once, though it was when you were just a toddler.”

“Oh, just Madge, actually.” She says as she takes her hand.

“Well Madge, you’ll have to excuse me as I have a little one to tend to, but I’m glad to see you again. I’d like to catch up with your mother, and Katniss doesn’t often have friends over.”

“Thanks for telling it to the world.” I mutter, though I don’t think anyone heard me.

Prim led Madge out to the backyard to introduce her to Lady the goat, and show her around the medicine garden. I focus on butchering the rabbit. Though it’s not much, a lot of the herbs that mother had made us gather are also edible, and I made sure to get extra just so we could have something to eat for dinner. The plan was rabbit stew, and I twirled a dandelion between my fingertips, enjoying the bright yellow color before tossing it into the soup pot, along with an assortment of greens, roots, and the rabbit.

I peer through the sooty windowpane at the back of the house and see that Prim has Madge sitting on a three legged stool, and is trying to show her how to milk Lady. Madge says something and they both laugh.

A wave of affection rises in my chest.

I’d always thought that Madge only spent her lunches and school projects with me because I was the only one as quiet and antisocial as she was, that it was simply a convenience, but the past several days had made me reconsider. She’d even been in the woods with me, twice. Maybe she really had been a friend all along. Prim certainly seemed to like her well enough.

The two of them come back into the house, both giggling, Madge carrying a pail of milk.

“Turns out aim is the hardest part of milking a goat.” Madge says, showing me a large wet spot on her shirt.

I snort. “Yeah, I’ve done that before.”

“So have I!” Prim says, taking the pail from Madge. She turns towards our mom.

“Mother? What do you think about steeping some herbs in this milk and then giving it to Runi, would that work?”

Our mother, who was busy sponging Runi’s forehead, looks up.

“Hmm? Oh yes, good idea.”

Prim settles in beside me at the table, measuring herbs into the milk pail and setting it on the stovetop to infuse by the pot of stew. Madge attempts to dab the excess milk off her shirt with the corner of a kitchen rag.

The scene feels so comfortable that I almost forget about the televised games, that is, until our battered box television flares up with the Capitol anthem.

A somber silence fills the room, and we all focus on the screen, where the Capitol hosts are onstage.

“We have an _exhilarating_ recap of the last twenty-four hours of the 74 th annual Hunger Games! And I think you’ll find the latest events quite _explosive.”_

“Now now, Caesar, we mustn’t spoil things for the audience.” Maudilla titters.

“But of course! Let’s get right to it then!”

Runi starts whimpering again and mom shushes him as the flickering screen fades to a nighttime view of the careers camp. Infrared cameras mark their sleeping forms. One stirs at the edge, and a tag at the bottom of the screen shows that it’s Glimmer. She rises slowly, after checking that the rest are asleep, and straps her weapons to her. Two knives, a bow, and a quiver of arrows.

She slips into the woods, looking furtively over her shoulder.

“Is she splitting off from the pack?” Prim asks.

“I don’t know, you’d think she’d take some supplies if she was.”

After she’d walked a distance away, Glimmer squats down, and it becomes clear that what we thought might be a betrayal was merely a bathroom break. Why were they putting so much focus on it, then?

Glimmer holds her knife at the ready, looking nervously back in the direction of the Career camp, and I realize with a twist in my gut that she’s _scared._ Not of an attack, necessarily, but of a different kind of assault. And after the comments we had seen from Marvel, and who knows what might have happened behind closed doors, she has reason to be.

I’d never feel sympathy for a career, but the strangeness of seeing one as being vulnerable is new and apparent.

The cameras then shift back to the camp where Dusky is stirring. The cameras zoom in on him as he digs in the bottom of his sleeping bag, retrieving a rough gadget with a lot of loose wires.

He holds it tightly in his hand as he approaches the supply pile, grabbing a backpack and quickly filling it with food. He fiddles with his gadget a bit, then sets it at the base of the stockpile. He tiptoes past the other sleeping tributes and slips into the woods. It’s clear that _he,_ at least, is intent on leaving the alliance.

The woods are still, and the device begins to spark. I get a sinking feeling and tell Prim to cover her eyes.

The device, the _bomb_ , goes off. Triggering all of the landmines around it in quick succession. The explosion rips apart the supply pile, the remaining careers, and a good thirty-foot radius of brush and trees. Four canons go off in quick succession. Runi starts full-on wailing then, and Prim rushes to comfort him.

Glimmer crashes through the woods then, and stares at the destruction before her. In just a few moments, the odds had changed immensely.

The show hosts come back on screen again, discussing what this means for sponsors, who the new strongest contenders are. But it all fades into background noise. I glance at Madge, and she meets my eyes.

A thousand thoughts pass between us before she says, “They might actually have a chance now.”

I almost wish she doesn’t say it, I don’t want to hold onto false hope. It will always let you down. But the odds have undeniably changed.

I count up the remaining tributes in my head: Glimmer, Dusky, the five girl, the ten boy, two from eleven, and Peeta and Keena. They’re down to eight. I realize the Capitol will send out reporters to our district soon. They’ll want to hear from me.

And I have no idea what to say.

**Prim’s Herbal Milk Recipe:**

**The long and short of this is that you heat milk on the stovetop, steep herbs in it, stirring constantly for a few minutes, and then strain the herbs out. However, there’s a couple of special remedies I like to make this way.**

**The first is Warm Chamomile Milk for insomnia. Steep a tablespoon of chamomile in a cup of milk, strain, and add honey to taste.**

**The second is a comforting Lavender Cocoa to sooth the nerves. Steep a tablespoon of chopped lavender blooms in a cup of milk, strain, then return to the heat and add a handful of chocolate chips. Stir constantly until the chocolate is melted, then enjoy!**

**Happy recipe making!**

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I’m sorry my chapter length is pretty inconsistent, but hopefully you enjoyed the extra content this update! I’m excited to get the chance to focus on and develop some of the characters who got overlooked in the series, and that’s what I’m doing here. I always thought Dusky, or the D3 boy, was a pretty formidable character. I mean, he’s using bombs that were meant to control the tributes to his advantage, and though that didn’t work out for him in the series, I can’t help but think he had a bigger plan than what was shown.**

**So what do you think? Agree? Disagree? What characters would you like to see more development for? And what do you think of the chapter?**

**Can’t wait to hear from you!**

**Love, Lesbianerd**


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter also comes with an ambient noise mix! https://at-home-other.ambient-mixer.com/the-undersee-house Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter Twelve, Madge PoV, Saturday, July 5 th**

I stretch out in my bed, the late morning light spreading across my blankets, sweet and warm.

I’d gotten back home late last night, or late by my standards. My father had been in a meeting, my mother had been asleep, and I slipped back in unnoticed.

Yesterday had been wonderful. I had gotten out of the house, visited the woods again, and even milked a goat.

The Everdeen’s home felt a lot more welcoming than mine ever had. And Prim was so sweet. She made me wish I had a little sister.

And of course I loved any time I could spend with Katniss. Brave, strong, gentle Katniss. She was a friend, and a good one.

_You know it’s more than that._ A small voice in the back of my head says, but I quiet it down. I can’t afford to open that box. Not yet.

I distract myself with getting ready for the day. I pull on a gray button up, and, on a whim, I retrieve the marigold skirt that’s been hanging on my mother’s doorknob for so many days. If she’s not going to wear it, then I might as well.

I make my way downstairs, ready to make myself some breakfast.

“Magdalene, please come here.”

I wince at the use of my given name and turn to face my father, who is standing in the living room.

He sits down on the sofa and pats the seat beside him. I sit as directed.

“Madge, where were you last night?”

“At a friend’s.”

“You need to be here by games time.”

I don’t question it. “Okay.”

He rubs his forehead.

“Madge, do you know the kind of security being in our position in the district offers us?”

He doesn’t wait for my answer, just keeps talking.

“We have plenty of money, more quality food than anyone else, even access to Capitol medical services. We are the safest family in Twelve. But only if we follow a certain set of guidelines. Our position can be taken away, you see.”

I press my lips together. I can sense where this is going.

“And I don’t know that this is true, but there are rumors. Rumors that reached the peacekeepers, about you and your mother speaking out against the games.”

“It was hardly anything! We-”

He holds up his hand, stopping me.

“Now, I can make excuses for your mother, considering her condition, but you need to be more careful, Magdalene.”

I grit my teeth. “Okay. I’ll be more careful.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be enough, though. You need to start keeping up appearances, taking on projects.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Capitol expected you to take on duties as mayor after I’m gone, as I did for my father. If they start to question you, question your loyalty, they’ll appoint someone else as soon as they can. And punish you.”

“So what?” I whisper. “Shouldn’t I get to choose what I want to do with my life?”

“Why would you want anything else? The best job in the district has been secured for you.”

 

The words spill out of my mouth before I can even think about them:

“Maybe I don’t want to be a puppet for a government that makes us watch as they murder our kids just to keep us in line.”

His face contorts dangerously.

“Listen Magdalene Undersee. Your mother is ill. She would have withered away and died a long time ago if it wasn’t for the medicines the Capitol sends in for us every month. That’s all that’s keeping her going. So you _will_ comply. You will obey. Don’t put your selfish ideals above her life.”

“Fine!” I stand up. Rage and guilt boiling in my veins. “What is it you want me to do?”

“Start taking on mayoral duties. I’d like you to start with overseeing coal shipments to other districts.”

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Thank you. And Madge, it’s not so bad. You’ll see that you can do a lot of good in this job.”

I think about the Seam, the skewed distribution of resources, the number of kids that disappeared from my classrooms over the years, succumbing to starvation, or illness, or both. The miners working sixty hours a week until their lungs give out.

“Not likely.” I whisper.

**Katniss PoV**

I shift uncomfortably in my seat as the Capitol tech people fiddle with microphones and lights around me. A makeup artist comes at me with a full box of beauty products, and dusts my face with layers on layers of who-knows-what.

“Are we camera ready??” Cries my interviewer, a man with glittering, gem-studded braces and lime-green hair teased into a wild, swooping hairstyle.

The camera crew give him a thumbs up.

“Alright! Lights, camera, action!”

I am acutely aware of all the cameras trained on me. I just hope whatever I say doesn’t hurt Peeta’s chances.

“I am now in district twelve speaking with the now _famous_ Katniss Everdeen! Katniss, tell me, what was your reaction when you first saw Peeta’s confession of love on television?”

“I-I was surprised.”

“Who wouldn’t be?! It was quite a grand gesture!”

“Yes, it was, I suppose.”

He purses his lips, and I can tell he’s unsatisfied with my answers.

“So what can you tell me about the man?”

“He bakes a lot.” I blurt out.

“Yes, we are aware that he worked in a bakery. Is that all?”

“No, he’s kind, and strong.”

“Hmm, so if he were to return, could you see a potential romance blooming?” He waggles his lime-green eyebrows at me.

I wring my hands, unsure of how to answer.

“I guess we’d see.”

“And see we shall!” My interviewer waves his hands grandiosely.

“Well, I guess that wraps that up, then!” He leans back to whisper to another crew member. “Who else do we have lined up?”

I take that as my cue to go, and duck away.

My face feels hot. I’m sure I just ruined his chances, but what else could I have said?

I find a public water pump and use it to scrub the makeup from my face. Rising, I turn towards the woods. Now feels like a prime time to disappear for a few hours.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen, Katniss PoV, Sunday, July 6** **th**

I’m up at the crack of dawn, lacing my boots up for the first hunting day I’d had with Gale in a week. 

My stomach growls, but I don’t bother to fill it, except to chew on some mint leaves. The only thing readily available right now is tesserae, which takes far too much time to prepare.

I shift my gaze to Prim who’s still asleep, huddled under our comforter. Our dinner last night was goat’s milk and a small salad of summer greens, and I knew it wasn’t enough for her. It wasn’t enough for anyone, but Prim was growing fast. She needed more.

Unfortunately, hunting alone was proving harder than I anticipated. Without the extra pair of eyes scouting for prey, the extra pair of feet flushing them out, the extra pair of arms carrying them home, everything was more difficult.

I tell myself it’ll just take time, I’ll get a handle on hunting solo, because I’ll have to. But I’m grateful that I won’t be alone today.

The air feels especially heavy today, smoke and coal dust thick and dense, like a winter coat feels when you walk into a too-warm room.

I move swiftly through the district, the meadow, under the fence, not stopping until I reach Gale and my meeting spot. He’s already there wearing a clean brown shirt and worn work jeans. He breaks out into a smile.

“Took you long enough Catnip.”

I wrap him in a hug. “How was your first week in the mines?”

“Hellish.” He replies, and I leave it at that.

He pulls back and holds up the hem of his shirt.

“I thought all my clothes would be coal-smudged permanently. Took me and my mom hours to get the stains out of this, but we did it.”

“They don’t call her the best washerwoman in the district for no reason.”

“They certainly don’t.”

We start off with fishing, using the time sitting by the water to catch up with what’s been going for the past week. Gale’s eyes glow with pride when he talks about Posy learning to tie knots. I tell him about Runi, about his illness, and his mouth goes in a thin line. I don’t tell him about Madge coming to the woods with me.

I can’t imagine that going over well.

“I saw your interview on television last night, are you okay?”

I cringe. “Yeah, I just didn’t know what to say.”

He nods. “I had to do that once, too.”

“Really?” I hadn’t heard about this.

“Yeah, a boy in my class got reaped when we were both thirteen. I used to play jacks with him. He got to the final six.”

I don’t know how to respond. I just focus on drawing my line through the water, thinking of another child lost.

“It’s messed up,” Gale says, “They go out of their way to broadcast who the tributes are, who they’d leave behind, why they should return home, but it’s just to up the drama. In the end, they don’t care when we die.”

We move on to gathering, collecting strawberries and clover, and then head out on our trek through the snare line. I talk about the low yields I’ve been seeing, and he walks me through setting a snare for what feels like the hundredth time. I do my best, but by this time I don’t trust my skills to measure up. At least I’ll always have my bow.

We’re halfway through our snare line when Gale holds up his hand, making me pause. He gestures ahead at some rustling in the bushes near our next snare, and we both creep forward, bows at the ready. Whatever animal is moving is a large one, probably trying to scavenge from our traps.

We are practically upon the bush when the rustling stops. We wait patiently, for the animal to reveal itself. After a few moments of nothing, Gale begins to move around to the other side of the bush.

“Hey!” Gale shouts, and someone else yelps. I spring forward in time to see someone crawl out from the other side and try to scramble away. Gale grabs him by the elbow and the kid yelps in pain. I quickly realize why.

“You!” I say, rounding on the boy my sister had bandaged up not a few days before, arm still in her carefully assembled sling, and a small rabbit, stuffed down his shirt. 

“What do you think you’re doing?? Don’t you know stealing’s a hanging offense? Give it back right now you little-”

“Katniss, stop.” Gale rests a hand on my shoulder. Rage is still boiling in my veins, but I relent as Gale crouches down before Conrad so he’s at eye level. Their age difference is only a few years, but the boy is so scrawny, and Gale’s so tall, that it’s hard to tell.

“I know you wouldn’t be out here if you had any other choice.” Gale says. Conrad stays stock still and resolute, but his trembling lip betrays his fear.

“But that’s why we’re out here too. We’ve all got families to feed. So I’m going to need that rabbit back, but I’ll propose you a deal: You come with us for the rest of the trail, keep a lookout, and I’ll teach you to set snares. Then we go to the Hob and I’ll get you a bowl of Greasy Sae’s soup to tide you over the rest of the day. If you want to learn more you can come back next Sunday, I’ll be here. Might even bring my little brother too. You can learn together. Sound good?”

Cautiously, Conrad nods, still stealing distrustful looks at me. I’m still fuming as he hands the rabbit back to Gale, but have to admit that Gale handled this well. It’s such a stark contrast to when we first met, when Gale threatened me with a hanging for simply looking at his snare. I wonder when he changed.

We make our way further along the trail. Conrad is surprisingly quiet in the forest, but off balance without the use of one of his arms. We learn that he’s good at identifying mushrooms. He showed us a mycology notebook that he got from his grandmother, full of detailed drawings of different fungi.  Gale chats with him amiably, while i stay silent in the rear. I am not accustomed to having a hunting partner, and am still wary of him. The ache in my stomach isn’t helping.

By the time we finish the trail the ache has grown into that awful, shrunken feeling and we only have too rabbits to show for it.  I split off from the group before we got to the hob, taking one of them with me.

Home is quiet, or at least, quieter than it has been. Prim is humming to Runi while coaxing some herb-infused honey into him.

“How is he?” 

“Better than yesterday.” Prim smiles wanly. It falters for just a second when she sees the one rabbit i’ve brought home. 

“I can put that in a stew.” My mother says as she enters from the backyard, carrying some fresh-cut herbs.

I let her at it and settle into a wooden chair, my head feeling light and fuzzy.

Right on queue, the television flares to life.

“And now, our very special mandatory viewing segment and recap!”

What follows is a montage of Glimmer practicing her archery, Dusky fiddling with some gadgets he’d apparently gotten from a sponsor, and Peeta and Keena, same as they were, hidden away in separate areas of the arena. I’m amazed they haven’t been flushed out yet, but with the career deaths, I’m sure the capitol has plenty to focus on. 

Probably the most interesting part was when Thresh, led by a series of signals Rue relayed through mockingjay calls, made his way to join up with the ten-eleven alliance. They were now the largest alliance in the arena, and the Capitol was starting to take notice. Of course I hoped Keena and Peeta would win, but if they couldn’t, I hoped it would be the little girl who flew through treetops.


End file.
